Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The alleyway reeked of garbage and rain-soaked despair. Sakura’s head throbbed painfully, the kind of headache that came from too much impact and not enough time to recover. His vision blurred, and his body ached like a hundred needles had been driven into him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, but the pain was relentless. Everything was a clutter—the cold ground beneath him, the damp air of the alley, the overwhelming bitterness of the defeat that still clung to him.

What a mess. Again.

Sakura's parents had abandoned him when he was young, and this was the life he'd been stuck with ever since—fighting for scraps and barely making it through the day. This recent pounding was simply another day in the life. He'd been jumped by three goons who wanted his meager money. They'd given him no chance and began swinging as soon as they laid eyes on him. It was the same scenario every time: he fought as hard as he could, but it was always a losing battle.

"Ugh—“ he groaned, shifting a little, trying to pull himself into a sitting position. But his body didn’t cooperate, and he crumpled back to the ground, his vision spinning.

But then, he heard footsteps. Not the shuffling of the usual gutter trash, but confident, purposeful steps. His heart raced for a second. Someone was coming his way. His first instinct was to hide, but his body wouldn’t move. He barely had enough strength to lift his head, let alone scramble into the shadows.

Then, the figure emerged.

A man, tall and commanding, stepped into the dim light. His gaze swept over the scene, and for a moment, Sakura thought he might be another thug looking to finish the job. But something about the man felt different—like he didn’t belong in this mess. His sharp eye was calculating, cold, and yet there was a glimmer of something—almost like curiosity.

The man’s features were striking. His dark hair, long enough to tie back, was styled effortlessly, and his clothes—impeccably tailored to fit his lean frame—suggested someone who had no interest in blending in. But the most remarkable thing about him was the eyepatch, and the single red eye that gleamed with a dark, cold intensity, exuding an air of ruthless authority.

The man crouched down, close enough for Sakura to catch the faint scent of something sharp and clean—gunpowder, perhaps, mixed with a hint of leather.

“Dead?” the man asked with a raised eyebrow, his voice smooth, almost amused.

Sakura groaned. Was this guy serious?

"Not yet, thanks for asking,” He meant it to be sarcastic, but it came out nothing more than a wheeze.

The man didn’t blink, his gaze still cold but calculating. He didn’t seem to care about the mess Sakura was in. Instead, his eye flicked to the three thugs that had left Sakura in this state.

“Those the ones who did this to you?” the man asked, his tone still casual, as though he were discussing the weather.

Sakura struggled to sit up, but the world spun around him.

"Who else?" he snapped. He had neither the time nor the energy for a roundabout conversation with someone he couldn't tell was friend or foe.

The man didn’t respond to his words immediately. Instead, his gaze locked on the thugs. Then, without warning, he walked toward them, his movements fluid, controlled. The thugs, seeing him approach, sneered. “What’s this pretty boy think he’s gonna do?“

The man didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The first thug lunged at him, a crude knife raised. But before the thug could even get close, the man’s hand moved faster than Sakura could track. He grabbed the thug’s wrist, twisting it with a sharp snap, sending the knife clattering to the ground. With a swift knee, he knocked the thug back into the brick wall, causing him to crumple, unable to move.

Sakura blinked, his mind trying to catch up. What—what just happened?

Before the remaining two thugs could react, the man was already on them. One of them swung a fist, but the man dodged effortlessly, grabbing the thug by the arm and flipping him onto the ground with a force that left the thug gasping for air. The last thug hesitated, unsure whether to attack or run.

Sakura, still reeling from the pain, managed to watch as the man took a step toward the last thug. His movements were so fluid, so precise, that it almost seemed like a dance. With a single punch, the thug collapsed, knocked out cold.

The alley was silent now, the only sound the faint trickle of water running from a broken drainpipe. The three thugs were either unconscious or too injured to move, lying in a heap at the man’s feet.

Sakura’s mouth hung open slightly. What the hell was that? Sakura’s mind was still trying to process the speed and efficiency of what he’d just witnessed.

The man turned to him, his eye still as sharp as ever, and for a moment, there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

“Are you going to lie there all day?” he asked, his tone almost teasing.

Sakura scowled. “Why the hell do you care?”

The man crouched down again, his expression softening just enough to be disarming.

“I saw how you fought back earlier. It was shit in general but the determination alone was charming. Most of us would have just given them what they wanted so our lives would be spared, but you, you chose to take the beating with a far-fetched dream that you could win. I don’t like wasting potential,” he said simply. “And right now, you look like a waste.”

Sakura bristled, the insult stinging more than he wanted to admit. “Thank you?” he muttered mockingly.

The man snorted out a laugh, extending a hand. “Get up,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m Suo Hayato. And you—well, let’s just say you’re coming with me.”

———

As promised—though admittedly to Sakura’s surprise—Suo returned a few days later to pick him up from the inn where he’d been working. By then, Sakura had patched himself up from his most recent beating, packed the few belongings he owned, and said his goodbyes to Kotoha, the only friend he’d made over the years. With that, he braced himself for whatever this new life Suo gave him might bring.

Now stepping out of the car that had driven them to District 1, Sakura was bewildered to say the least. He had never set foot in District 1 before. It was a world apart from the familiar grime of Districts 4 and 5—the slums where people like him were expected to stay, scraping by on what little they could find. Back in his district, the streets were riddled with broken asphalt, piles of uncollected garbage, and the constant hum of desperation. The air smelled of stale alcohol and rotting leftovers, and the buildings looked like they’d collapse with a single gust of wind. It was a place where dreams came to die—or, more realistically, never existed in the first place.

District 1 was overwhelming. The moment Sakura stepped into its bounds, it felt like a punch to the senses. Everything here gleamed. Towering skyscrapers stretched into the clouds, their reflective glass exteriors catching the sunlight and scattering it like prisms. Sakura craned his neck so far back to take it all in that he almost stumbled over himself. He’d only ever seen buildings like these on the fuzzy screen of the television in his inn’s owner’s room, glimpsed through the narrow crack of a poorly shut door. Now, standing at their base, they seemed impossibly huge, as if they were meant for giants, not people.

Sakura couldn’t stop swiveling his head, gawking like a dog let off its leash for the first time in an open field. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amazement and disbelief, and he felt a pang of something unfamiliar in his chest—envy, maybe, or resentment. It was hard to say.

“Is your neck going to break from all that looking around?” Suo’s voice cut through Sakura’s daze like a sharp blade.

Sakura snapped out of his trance, glancing over at Suo, who was walking a step ahead. Now this place was where Suo should belong. The man had his long hair pulled up into a high bun today, pinned with a silver hair stick. Sakura had never seen any men with that long hair and using hair stick before, so it was intriguing to him how perfectly Suo’s hair was always styled. His tailored navy-blue suit hugged his frame perfectly, and his polished shoes clicked against the pavement with an air of authority. Every step he took seemed purposeful, as if even the ground beneath him had to bend to his will.

“Yeah, yeah, keep walking, you fancy-ass,” Sakura muttered under his breath, though his wide-eyed glances betrayed his true feelings.

Suo smirked, clearly amused. “Fancy-ass? Focus, Sakura. You’re making us look like tourists.”

“Us?” Sakura scoffed, pointing a thumb at himself. “Pretty sure it’s just me. You fit in here like a king.”

“And you?” Suo glanced back, his crimson eye twinkling with amusement. “More like a stray puppy someone dragged in.”

Sakura opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, realizing Suo wasn’t entirely wrong. He could feel the judgmental stares from passersby, their silent disapproval almost suffocating. District 1 was a different universe, one where someone like him didn’t belong. Yet, here he was, following Suo like a shadow, trying to keep up in a world that felt alien to him.

“Hey,” Suo said, his tone softening slightly as he glanced at Sakura. “Keep your head up. You’re with me now. No one’s going to mess with you.”

Sakura blinked at him, momentarily stunned. The confidence in Suo’s voice was infectious, and for a brief moment, Sakura forgot about the weight of the stares and the suffocating sense of inferiority. He straightened his back and quickened his pace, falling in step beside Suo.

"Where are we going?" Sakura asked, his tone edged with impatience. "And why are we walking?"

Suo hummed thoughtfully, his hands clasped behind his back as he glanced down at Sakura.

"I’m hungry so we’re getting dinner," he said, his voice casual, almost teasing. "It’s a small iyakaza tucked away in an alley so the car wouldn’t fit. And well, I figured a big, fancy-assed restaurant might be a bit overwhelming for you right now. Am I not right, Sakura-kun?"

Don’t call me Sakura-kun. The retort hovered on the tip of his tongue, but Sakura swallowed it down. This guy was about to buy him food, after all.

"Tch," Sakura clicked his tongue in irritation. Suo wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to phrase it like that.

"You look like you’re loaded, and this is the best you can do for a first date?" Sakura asked, skeptical, as they stopped outside a tiny izakaya.

The place was indeed small—even by his standards. He couldn’t believe something this normal and unassuming existed in District 1, where every corner seemed to sparkle with excess and opulence.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Suo chided lightly, a knowing smile on his face. “Come on. You’ll be surprised.”

As they stepped inside, the quiet hum of conversation died instantly. A dozen heads turned toward them, and within seconds, every customer stood and bowed deeply. The sudden display made Sakura jump, his shoulders jerking up like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You mean surprised by this?” he whispered sharply, leaning toward Suo as he instinctively took a step back.

“No. The menu,” Suo replied, his voice soft with amusement, before gently placing a hand on Sakura’s back. With a light push, he nudged him further into the izakaya, all while the solemn gazes of the other patrons lingered.

Only once Suo and Sakura reached a small table tucked into the corner did the customers slowly return to their seats. As if on cue, the low murmur of conversation resumed, like nothing had happened at all.

A million questions flew through Sakura’s head at full speed. What the hell is going on? Who the hell is Suo? Who are these people? What are they to him—employees? Henchmen? Cult followers? Is this some kind of human trafficking situation? No matter what the answers were, one thing was clear: Sakura was scared shitless.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when an elderly woman suddenly appeared beside their table, seemingly out of thin air, and handed them two menus.

“So you’ve brought a new boy today, Suo-san?” she said cheerfully, her warm smile a slight reassurance—though her words, on the other hand, were anything but.

A new boy? Sakura’s stomach dropped. So Suo had a habit of picking up random guys and bringing them to this shady place. Was this actually happening?

“You’re not selling me to a fucking brothel, are you?” he muttered under his breath, shooting a suspicious glare at Suo.

The old woman, however, just bursted into a laugh, clearly entertained by the outburst. “Oh, you got yourself a funny one also. I like him already,” she said with a wink at Sakura before turning and shuffling off, leaving the two alone with their menus.

Sakura whipped his head back toward Suo, who was calmly thumbing through his menu with that same infuriatingly smug smile, his eye gleaming with quiet amusement.

“I admire the confidence you have, assuming you’re pretty enough for a brothel,” Suo mused, clearly humored.

Sakura’s entire body bristled, and his hands slammed down on the table. “I don’t need to be pretty to end up in a brothel, you dickhead! It’s all the same when the lights are out!”

Suo finally looked up, locking eyes with Sakura. There was a twinkle there, something both teasing and dangerous. He leaned back slightly, his smirk widening. “Oh why, I think you’re plenty pretty, though.”

Sakura froze. His brain short-circuited, his breath catching in his throat as his face ignited with heat. This guy was unbelievable, calling him pretty and shit.

“Wha—!” He almost choked on his own spit, words failing him.

Suo chuckled at Sakura’s flustered reaction but decided to save him further embarrassment by continuing.

“I’m not selling you to a brothel, if that’s what’s concerning you the most,” Suo said, his tone light but pointed. “As for this place, it’s small because the couple that owns it is getting old. The husband is sick, so his wife runs the place alone now. They asked me for help setting up a manageable business, and this was the result. As for those customers? They’re my subordinates. Only they have the patience to wait for the food. Now that I’ve answered all your questions, could you pick your dishes now? Or we will need to wait for a long while, and I’m starving.”

Sakura blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Suo’s explanation. Then, he obediently flipped through the menu. There was something about Suo—his calm yet commanding presence—that made it difficult to resist. Suo’s answers still floated freely in Sakura’s head as he hastily rattled off his choices when the old woman returned to their table. It wasn’t until Suo’s voice cut in that Sakura realized he’d gone completely overboard.

“Are you sure you can eat all that, Sakura-kun?” Suo chuckled, eyeing the ever-growing list of dishes. “Not a single veggie in sight, huh?”

Sakura bristled but couldn’t deny it. “Man, I had veggies my whole life. People like me don’t get all-you-can-eat buffets thrown at them every day,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

A faint flush of embarrassment crept onto his face—he knew he’d gone too far. He didn’t want Suo to think he was pathetic, though part of him figured Suo probably already did from the moment they first met.

The old woman chuckled warmly, her voice cutting through Sakura’s self-consciousness. “Oh, you poor boy. Don’t worry, honey, I’ll bring all your dishes out, no matter how many.”

Her kindness soothed Sakura, if only a little, and he managed a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Suo echoed, his tone polite. Then, Suo turned his gaze back to Sakura, his expression shifting. His single eye fixed on Sakura with an almost piercing intensity, as if he were sizing him up in a way that made the younger man’s skin prickle.

“You’re an honest man, aren’t you?” Suo said suddenly, his voice low but clear.

Sakura blinked in confusion. “Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that,” he muttered, unsure how ordering a mountain of meat equated to honesty.

Suo leaned back slightly, his demeanor changing. The playful glimmer in his eye faded, replaced by a steely seriousness that sent a chill through Sakura.

“Sakura-kun, from now on, you’ll never have to worry about food again. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want.” Suo said, his tone calm yet unyielding. He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing, his voice colder now. “But in return, I’ll need your absolute loyalty.”

“You’ll buy me anything?” Sakura asked, incredulous.

Suo barked out a laugh. “That’s not the main point here. Are you really this simple-minded?”

“Well,” Sakura scratched his head sheepishly. “I don’t spend much time reflecting on my mind, but I trust my guts. As long as you give me food, you’ll have my loyalty. I’ve lived by that rule since day one, so don’t worry. What am I gonna do anyway?”

Suo leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, amusement dancing in his eye. “You’ll be my bodyguard first.”

“You don’t already have one?” Sakura asked, just as the old lady returned with the first dish—potato salad. He wasn’t a fan of vegetables, but hunger got the better of him. He stabbed his fork into it and shoved a bite into his mouth.

“I do, technically,” Suo replied, watching him with a smirk. “His name’s Sugishita, but he’s busy looking after his previous boss, who’s in poor health. I need a replacement.”

“From what I saw back there with those thugs, you seem to handle yourself just fine,” Sakura remarked between bites.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Suo said with a chuckle. “And yes, I can handle most situations, but having a bodyguard is about appearances. If people see me without one, they’ll think I’m vulnerable, and that invites trouble. And,” His voice dipped slightly, losing its playful tone. “There’s something happening within my organization. I need to raise my guard—let’s leave it at that.”

Sakura clicked his tongue, lowering his gaze to his plate. “But I can’t even kill a fly, let alone defend anyone.” The self-doubt in his tone was impossible to miss.

“I’ll teach you how to fight,” Suo said firmly, his voice carrying a promise that felt unshakable. “You’ll never have to feel that kind of helplessness again—like the world’s chewing you up and spitting you out.”

Sakura flinched inwardly. Suo had seen right through him. He hated that feeling of defeat more than anything. But—why him?

“Why me?” he asked, the question escaping his lips before he could stop it. A million thoughts raced through his mind as the old lady returned with a plate of karaage chicken. Surely, there were others more capable. In the slums, boys his age fought tooth and nail every day. He was nothing special—nothing worth Suo’s attention.

“Because you have nowhere else to go,” Suo said, his tone cutting. “Your parents left you when you were just a kid. You don’t even know if they’re alive, and you clearly don’t care enough to find out. And you don’t want to go back to that inn to scrub dirty toilets where the guests fucked, do you?”

Suo paused, his voice sharp with disdain before continued. “Work for me, and you’ll earn enough to help your friend Kotoha, too. I’m offering you more than a job, Sakura—I’m giving you a purpose. A reason to live. I know you’ll take it.”

Suo’s words weren’t kind, but they weren’t heartless either. They hit Sakura like a hammer, breaking through walls he hadn’t even realized he’d built. His throat tightened, and his vision blurred.

“So, you’ve done your homework on me, huh?” Sakura muttered bitterly, the words tasting like ash. He hadn’t expected Suo to know so much—not just about his past, but about the ugly truths of his present and the bleakness of his future.

Suo set down his chopsticks and pulled a tissue from its holder. Without a word, he reached across the table and wiped Sakura’s nose. It wasn’t until that moment that Sakura realized he’d been crying. Maybe it was because this was the first time he had tasted something so delicious, something that wasn’t scraps left behind by strangers. Or maybe it was because Suo was right about everything.

“So,” Suo said, his voice no longer sharp, “is this a deal?”

He extended his hand—the same hand that had just wiped Sakura’s tears and snot.

Sakura hiccupped, wiping his eyes angrily with the back of his arm. He hated how weak he looked right now. He swore to himself that he would become Suo’s strongest bodyguard. Strong enough to make Suo rely on him, to make sure he could never abandon him.

“Deal,” Sakura said firmly, gripping Suo’s hand in a tight handshake.

“Good,” Suo said. His intense crimson eye softened into something almost unreadable as he released him. “Now eat up. Tomorrow, your real life begins.”

Chapter Text

Sakura stood frozen at the entrance, his eyes fixed on the sprawling estate ahead. This was supposed to be Suo’s mansion? He’d expected something flashy—a glass fortress of steel and wealth, the kind of place that screamed untouchable. Instead, what he saw looked like it had been plucked straight out of the Edo period.

The tall walls surrounding the property were the only thing remotely intimidating. Beyond them, a stone pathway meandered toward a house that oozed old-world charm—curved roofs, weathered wooden beams, sliding shoji screens. It looked more like a temple than a home.

“This is your place?” Sakura couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice, eyes scanning the surroundings in shock.

Suo was already halfway up the path, a teasing lilt in his voice as he called back, “Disappointed? Let me guess—you were hoping for something shinier?”

“Yeah, shinier. This is more like—a haunted temple,” Sakura snorted, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed. “Do you even live here? Or is this your secret villain lair where you plot to take over the world?”

Suo turned just enough to shoot him a sharp grin, the kind that didn’t bother with warmth. “I don’t need to take over the world, Sakura-kun. I’m perfectly content with my empire.”

Before Sakura could come up with a comeback, the heavy gates groaned open behind them. His stomach sank as a dozen men and women in sharp black suits lined up in eerie synchronization. They bowed deeply, their voices blending into a unified greeting.

"Welcome home, Hayato-san."

The air tightened in Sakura’s chest. He blinked, his gaze darting between their rigid forms and Suo, who walked past them with casual ease. Their eyes briefly flicked to Sakura—cold, assessing—before snapping back to Suo. The scrutiny was enough to make his skin crawl. Sakura felt out of place. It was as if he didn’t belong here, like he was invisible, but also too visible at the same time.

"What the hell—" Sakura muttered, leaning closer to Suo and still shaken by the row of suited figures. "I thought you said you didn’t have any bodyguards?"

“They’re not bodyguards in the way you’re imagining,” Suo replied lightly, waving the group off without a second glance. “Their job is to manage the mansion and deal with outside affairs. Your role, however—” He paused, his crimson eye gleaming with amusement. “—is closer to me. More complicated.”

Sakura frowned. “Complicated how?”

Suo didn’t answer, just gestured for him to follow. Still reeling from the strange greeting, Sakura trailed behind, his thoughts racing. This place—it was too much.

It only got stranger inside.

The traditional exterior stopped dead at the threshold. The interior was sleek and modern, a stark contrast that left Sakura momentarily speechless. Polished wooden floors gleamed beneath soft, recessed lighting. Minimalistic furniture and muted tones gave the space a crisp, futuristic vibe. It was like stepping into a parallel world.

“This place is—” Sakura searched for the right words, his voice dropping as he took in the open living area. “—unexpected.”

Suo’s grin widened, sharp and smug. “More to your taste now?”

“Not what I’d call ’taste.’ It’s just—weird,” Sakura muttered, his eyes darting from the state-of-the-art kitchen to what looked like a training room in the distance. “I thought it’d be less serene.”

“‘Serene’ is a good disguise,” Suo said, leading him down the hall. “No need for flashy nonsense. This house is a reflection of my philosophy: traditional on the outside, modern on the inside. It’s simple, effective, and secure.”

Sakura blinked. "You don’t seem the ‘simple’ type."

Suo shrugged, giving a playful smile. "Oh I don’t? Come on, I’ll show you to your room. Try not to drool on the floors.”

Sakura scowled, muttering under his breath as he followed. His eye widened as Suo opened a door to his room. The spacious layout, polished wooden floors, and large window overlooking the garden were almost too much for him to process. A neatly made futon sat against the wall, and a small wardrobe stood to the side. His few belongings—his battered bag, a change of clothes, and a couple of personal items—had already been unpacked and placed like he had lived here for years.

He let out a low gasp, running a hand over the smooth surface of a desk in the corner.

"This is mine?" he asked, as if the word itself felt foreign.

Suo leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching Sakura with thinly veiled amusement. "You sound surprised. Did you think I was going to make you sleep in the garden?"

Sakura didn’t expect to get his own room, much less one this nice. He had thought he’d end up in a room with nothing but bunk beds and other men, and that would’ve been more than he could’ve asked for.

Sakura shot him a sheepish look, scratching the back of his head. "No, it’s just—" He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over the room again. "I’ve never had a room like this. At the inn I worked at, I had a makeshift bed in the kitchen corner. My pillow was a sack of rice. Sometimes I’d wake up with rats fighting over it."

Suo’s lips curled into a small smile, the irony not lost on him. "Well, congratulations. You’ve officially been promoted from kitchen rat to actual human."

Sakura rolled his eyes, though the faint pink tint spreading up his neck gave away just how overwhelmed he felt. He flopped down onto the futon, fingers grazing over the soft fabric.

"This is ridiculous. A bodyguard like me gets his own room? How loaded are you? Seriously, what do you even do for a living? Are you, like—the CEO of some huge company or something?" The words spilled out before he could stop them. Curiosity kills the cat, sure—but hey, he had the right to know exactly who he was working for.

Suo snorted a laugh and tilted his head, his crimson eye glinting. “You sure ask a lot of questions. Guess that’s on me for not spelling it out earlier—I’m an Oyabun.”

Sakura blinked, the unfamiliar term washing over him like static. "Oyabun? What’s that supposed to mean?"

“The head of the Hayato-gumi. A Yakuza organization."

The words hit Sakura like a punch to the gut. "Yakuza?" he echoed, his voice an octave higher than usual. "You meean yakuza yakuza?"

"Is there another kind?" Suo grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction.

Sakura froze for a moment, the words hanging in the air like a weight. He’d seen Suo’s commanding presence, felt the quiet authority in the way he carried himself, but the reality was hitting him all at once now. This wasn’t just a man running a business or making deals. Suo was an Oyabun. The leader of a Yakuza family.

His thoughts raced, struggling to catch up with the sheer scale of what he was hearing. This is the life Suo’s been building for years. What had seemed like a private, personal world with just the two of them was slowly shifting into something far darker. Suo’s easy confidence, his casual attitude—it was all part of something more dangerous than he had imagined. How had he not seen it before?

So he wasn’t just meant to look after Suo—he was expected to take a bullet for him. Great, now he was really in over his head. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d just signed up for a one-way ticket to chaos.

Sakura just needed to make sure what exactly he was thrusting himself into. His tone grew more serious, curiosity edging out his usual bravado.

"You said you’re an Oyabun. Does that mean your yakuza is like the ones in the books? You know, illegal deals, smuggling, or even—human trafficking?" His voice dropped, a hint of unease creeping in.

“Hmm, sure thing I can do that,” Suo said so casually as if he was talking about what they would have for dinner.

“You’re not going to sell me to some creepy gruesome underground organization that uses human as slave or even organ harvesting right?” Sakura asked, his voice inching toward hysteria.

“Well, we’re the underground organization you’ve talking about, aren’t we? And we can be as creepy and gruesome as we want or need to.” Suo paused, eyeing Sakura with a predatory grin. “Selling off young, healthy boys like you? Not beyond the realm of possibility, I suppose.”

"Fantastic,” Sakura muttered, his face paled. “Now I’m gone from one garbage pit straight into another—except this one comes with a death warrant."

Suo burst out laughing, his deep, rich voice filling the room. "You really are something, aren’t you?" He waved a hand dismissively. "I’m just kidding. And no, not all yakuza are like that, you silly thing. Not all yakuza live in the gutter."

The words hung in the air like a shadow, and for the first time, Sakura felt the weight of Suo’s presence shift. The playful teasing that usually danced between them was gone, replaced by the subtle force of someone who had seen the darkness of the world and wielded it like a weapon.

Sakura swallowed hard, realizing this wasn’t just some casual conversation. Suo was always in control. Even when he joked.

"Then what do you do?" Sakura pressed, crossing his arms. "If you’re not doing the dirty stuff, what’s the point of being in the yakuza?"

Suo tilted his head, a sly grin playing on his lips. "We do some bad things. But only to bad people."

Sakura didn’t know if he could trust Suo with whatever the hell the guy said, but he still felt a rush of relief that washed through him. At least for now, it sounded like Suo’s yakuza family didn’t incline to that path of illegal activities. As it turned out, it was worse.

"What does that even mean?"

"My organization deals in shadows—politics, corruption, power plays—things the police can’t touch because of bureaucratic red tape,” Suo said, his voice growing softer but more serious. “Sometimes, that means being the villain to fight a greater evil. It's dangerous, sure, but it has to be done. And, admittedly, it pays well."

Damn, this was even more dangerous than the traditional way. Following tradition meant risking prison or even execution in the worst-case scenario. But delving into political games? That could get them killed before sunrise—along with anyone close to them—if someone powerful enough uncovered their schemes. Not that Sakura had any relatives to worry about. His only friend was Kotoha, and hardly anyone knew about her except for Suo, who had somehow managed to stalk and spy on him since their first meeting.

Now, Sakura understood why Suo had chosen someone like him. He had nowhere to go, nothing better to do, and no one waiting for him. The realization was both bitter and oddly comforting. Sometimes, having no attachments felt like a blessing in disguise.

“The old traditional yakuza ways doesn’t pay well enough? Why you chose to do something so different and—riskier?”

"Something happened in the past that made me want to build my own yakuza family, focused on what we can do for a better society." A brief flash of hatred and fury flickered in Suo's red eye. "I’m not trying to play the hero, but I’ve got my own revenge to settle too."

So a man as powerful as Suo needed to build up something as big as a whole yakuza family to take down an enemy. And he hadn’t succeeded yet, so that person behind it all must be even more terrifying.

Sakura furrowed his brows, chewing on Suo’s words. "But—doesn’t that also make you a target? Don’t other yakuza have a problem with how you’re running things?"

"You catch on fast, don’t you?" Suo chuckled, but his tone turned wry, his eye gleaming with sharpness. "My way isn’t exactly winning me a fan club. Climbing to the top means someone always wants to drag you down. Rival yakuza families don’t like it because I’m stepping on their toes. Some of my own men think I’m straying too far from tradition. They’re probably sharpening their knives as we speak, hoping for their chance."

Sakura felt a lump form in his throat. "And you’re telling me all this and trusting me of all people to stay by your side and protect you?”

Suo gave him a lazy look before pushing off the doorframe and striding down the hallway. He didn’t bother looking back. Sakura hated to admit it, but it felt like Suo knew Sakura would trail after him, like a dog on leash.

Suo led them to a room secured by an eye scanner, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. As they stepped inside, Sakura felt his stomach churn at the overwhelming sight before him. Hundreds of monitors lined the walls, each displaying various corners of the city—streets, alleyways, and buildings, all under constant surveillance. If he wasn’t mistaken, this room offered a complete view of the city’s underbelly.

Rows of men sat in front of the monitors, their gazes locked on the screens. None of them moved or even spared a glance at Suo and Sakura as they entered. It was clear they didn’t need to—they likely already saw Suo’s approach on one of those countless screens. The eerie efficiency of it all left an unsettling knot in Sakura’s gut.

The silence in the room wrapped around Sakura like a suffocating fog. The hum of the monitors was the only sound, underscoring the eerie stillness that made his chest tighten. The unsettling awareness of being constantly watched churned in his stomach, but he swallowed the unease, unwilling—or perhaps unable—to voice it.

Suo moved through the room with an air of authority, heading toward one of the men stationed at the monitors. Sakura trailed behind him closely, his steps mirroring Suo’s. In this moment, Suo was the only familiar presence in a sea of strangers, his only anchor in a place that felt like it was swallowing him whole. Even if Suo had been stalking him for who knows how long, Sakura clung to that shred of familiarity like a lifeline.

Suo leaned over a monitor, drumming his fingers on the desk of a blonde-haired man. The guy glanced up at Suo, then shifted his gaze to Sakura, his eyes lighting up as their gazes met.

“Hey, Sakura-san. I’ve heard a lot about you—or rather, seen a lot of you lately,” the blonde said with a grin, his voice smooth and friendly. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Nirei Akihiko.”

When Nirei eagerly extended his hand for a handshake, Sakura just stood there, brows furrowed in irritation. He had no intention of shaking the hand of someone who had been practically stalking him. He even let out a huff, and to his annoyance, that only made Nirei laugh.

“Suo-san was right. You’re a stubborn one,” Nirei chuckled. “Let me tell you, Suo likes it when it gets hard.”

It seemed like Nirei was the only one capable of breaking the silence in the room.

“Ah, Nirei-kun, don’t go airing my kink before I’ve even shown my good side,” Suo teased, flashing a smile, his eye crinkling in amusement.

Sakura started babbling something incoherent about what the hell a kink even was, but Suo’s voice quickly pulled him out of his confusion.

“I see you’ve found him,” Suo said, his gaze shifting to the screen once again. The teasing, humored tone he’d had moments earlier vanished in an instant, replaced by something cold and disdain.

“Ah, yes. That rat actually had the nerve to come back after all this time,” Nirei muttered, his attention back on the screen.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, clicking and typing with practiced ease, until images of a man and some kind of demographic data appeared on the display.

“He went abroad to change his appearance and identity, but it looks like he’s still intent on finishing his offer. Seems like it’s a deal worth risking his life for, huh?” Nirei said casually before humming some random notes, like they were watching some concert movie.

Suo took only about ten seconds to study the information, his eye narrowing slightly before he reached out and clicked a button. Nirei only had time to mutter a quick "Nice," before the nearby monitors flickered to life. A black car appeared on one screen, speeding past a group of policemen loitering near the opening of an alley. Sakura watched as the officers quickly scrambled into their cars, speaking urgently into their radios, and peeled off in pursuit.

In the same instant, four men emerged from nearby shops and cafes, silently closing in on their target—the man from the picture. The group approached him with an eerie calm, but one of them, a man with white hair and headphones, moved forward with purpose. Without warning, he slammed a punch into the man’s nose, dropping him to the ground, unconscious. The group swiftly dragged the limp body into the backdoor of a building in the alley and disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived.

Only then did Sakura blink. A thousand scenarios flashed through his mind—what would they do to the man? Interrogate him? Torture him? Kill him?

"This man betrayed us by leaking our confidential information four months ago. He's got the police department and some higher-ups in District 2 backing him, but that won't matter if he dares to cross us, right?" Suo said, his tone light again, as if the weight of the matter had lifted.

His mind was already racing, trying to make sense of the layers he had just uncovered. This wasn’t the sort of world he was used to, where the stakes felt personal. The Yakuza weren’t simply negotiators or businessmen—they ruled, they took. And Suo, in all his charm and elegance, was right at the top of this.

Sakura’s chest tightened as his thoughts swirled in a frantic haze. He’d never truly known a world like this existed. His life before had felt so much simpler in comparison—surviving on scraps, fighting for food, handling cash and punches like it was all there was to life. But in this world of Suo Hayato, where shadows moved and masterminds pulled the strings, deals didn’t feel like deals at all.

Sakura was at a loss for words. He knew exactly why Suo showed him all of this.

"Earlier, you asked why I chose you, of all people, to protect me, right? I choose people who are not only useful but also can be controlled." Suo paused, letting his words sink in, his signature unsettlingly friendly smile curling back onto his face.

“Well, tell me, Sakura-kun. What would you gain if you betrayed me anyways?” Suo’s voice was low, but it held a razor edge to it, sharp enough to cut through the space between them. “More money? A cushy life? Maybe you’d dream of being an Oyabun yourself? Go on, name it.”

Sakura gulped under the weight of Suo’s gaze, his mind scrambling for an answer. But no words came.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Suo broke it with a soft, almost amused sigh. "You know, Sakura-kun, I could snap your neck before you even thought about laying a finger on me."

Sakura stiffened, his breath catching. Suo didn’t move an inch, but the quiet confidence in his voice said enough. He was someone who could destroy Sakura with nothing more than a gesture.

Sakura had never even entertained the idea of betraying Suo either. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how easily the guy was trusting him—blindly, no less. Well, with one eye, but still.

“I don’t need you to threaten me to have my loyalty. I will earn your trust. You have my words,” Sakura said, his tone matching the determination in his heart.

After all, Suo had been the first to reach out a hand to help Sakura, and he wasn't about to walk away from that kind of debt. It was also Sakura's choice—he could either live on his knees or die on his feet. He would never go back to his old life, scraping by on the streets, fighting for scraps just to survive each day. Even now he was just a pawn in a dangerous game, yet the desire to understand the intricate web of power and consequence made him feel bigger of himself, as though he had finally found a purpose in life.

Suo seemed satisfied with his answer. Sakura couldn’t tell if he imagined it, but he saw the light tension in Suo’s shoulders drop at that moment. It felt as if Suo himself—despite all his casual demeanor—had been actually ready for any outburst of Sakura under the moment of fight or flight from this whole ordeal.

"Ah, I’ve loved that determination of yours since the first day we met. Now, come on," Suo said, gesturing for Sakura to follow as Nirei waved them off without taking his eyes off the screens. "You didn’t think I brought you here just to stand around watching action movies, did you?"

Sakura blinked, snapping out of his thoughts and glued to Suo’s steps again. "Where are we going now?"

"The training room," Suo replied, "If you’re going to protect me, you’ll need to know how to fight properly. And judging by the way you shuffle your feet, I’m guessing you’re starting from scratch."

Sakura knew he was weak but the urge to throw Suo into a headlock was still almost overwhelming him. "Hey, I’m not completely hopeless, you know! I’ve been in street fights more than I’ve had hot meals!"

Suo glanced back with a sly smirk. "Street fights, huh? How’d those work out for you?"

Sakura looked away, grumbling. "I’m still alive, ain't I?"

Suo’s laughter echoed down the hallway as they approached a heavy wooden door. He slid the door open to reveal a large room with polished wooden floors, padded walls, and an array of training equipments. There weren’t any weapons in sight, so Sakura figured there had to be another, more restricted room for those—one he probably didn’t have clearance for yet. The faint smell of wood and sweat hung in the air here, hinting at how often the room was used.

"Welcome to your new second home," Suo said, beckoning Sakura to go inside and shutting the door close. "This is where we separate the tough from the reckless. Guess which one you are right now."

Sakura scowled, but his awe was hard to hide as he took in the space. "This—this is where you train? It's fucking huge!"

"Yes, it is," Suo replied, shrugging off his coat and neatly folding it before placing it on the bench near the door. "It has to be big enough to fit all my men when we train."

It was the first time Sakura saw Suo in just his shirt. He couldn't help but notice how Suo casually unbuttoned the top two buttons, and his eyes widened when he caught sight of a tattoo peeking out. It looked like an ear of a fox—one that surely was part of a larger piece if Suo was indeed yakuza. Sakura’s curiosity about the tattoo was so strong that he almost missed the mouthguard that Suo tossed him.

“What the hell?” Sakura stared at the mouthguard in his hand like it had personally offended him. “I don’t need this stupid thing. I’ve been a lot of fights before, I know how to handle myself.”

Suo rubbed his chin, seemingly in deep, mocking thoughts. “If I remember correctly, you were the one sprawled out like roadkill in that alley last week. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘handling yourself,’ does it?”

Sakura bristled, his cheeks flushing at the memory. “It was three against one! And they were assholes. This is not the same thing. I know you wouldn’t just wipe the floor with me in a practice fight.”

“Do you?” Suo tutted, slipping off his shoes as he stepped onto the mat. “You’re dealing with me, Sakura-kun. Even I don’t know what my mood might do in the heat of the moment. But believe me, I don’t want to risk ruining that pretty face of yours.”

Sakura bet he was blushing scarlet by how hot his face felt now. He hardly ever got compliments, let alone from someone as striking as Suo. He knew the guy was just messing with him, but that didn’t make it any easier to get used to.

“Alright,” Suo motioned for Sakura to join him on the mat. “Put it on and show me if you’re good for more than just taking up space."

Sakura frowned, catching the jab in Suo's tone, but he still slipped the mouthguard in place. There was just something about Suo that made him listen, no matter how annoying it was.

“Don’t underestimate me too much, Suo,” Sakura said, his voice muffled by the mouthguard, the words sounding ridiculous to his own ears. “I can at least land a punch on you.”

Suo let out a sharp laugh, casually getting into position. He stood tall and high, as if he weren’t even trying to hide how unbothered he was feeling before the fight, which made Sakura even more riled up.

"Oh, I’d never underestimate you. I’m just assessing you,” Suo said, his voice dipped with sarcasm.

Grumbling under his breath, Sakura lunged forward, throwing a quick punch. Suo sidestepped with ease, his movements so smooth they almost seemed lazy. Before Sakura could recover, Suo hooked his foot behind Sakura’s leg, sending him sprawling onto the mat.

Sakura groaned, glaring up at the ceiling. “Are you serious? That was barely five seconds!"

"Impressive, wasn’t it?" Suo said, standing over him with a triumphant smirk. "Lesson one. Don’t telegraph your moves. I saw that punch coming from across the room."

Sakura pushed himself up and got into his fighting stance again. "You didn’t have to trip me like that! Aren’t you supposed to ease me into this or something?"

"This is easing you in," Suo replied, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "You’ll know if I’m being mean. Would you prefer I started with knives?"

"You’re enjoying this way too much," Sakura grumbled, trying to shake off the heat crawling up his neck.

"Maybe," Suo replied, tilting his head, his eye gleaming with mischief. "Or maybe I just like watching you squirm. Either way, it’s fun for me."

Sakura gritted his teeth but couldn’t find a retort fast enough before Suo motioned for him to come at him again. "Come on, Sakura-kun. Show me something better than that. I know you’ve got it in you."

Sakura huffed, circling Suo carefully before darting in with a feint. Suo raised a brow, clearly unimpressed, and dodged again, this time catching Sakura’s arm and twisting him around. Before Sakura knew it, he was on the mat again, this time with Suo pinning him down effortlessly.

"Lesson two," Suo said, leaning just close enough to be infuriating. "Don’t rely on tricks you can’t pull off. Feints might work on someone inexperienced, but against me? You might as well be waving a flag announcing your next move."

Sakura growled, thrashing under Suo’s grip but unable to break free. "Are you trying to teach me or humiliate me?"

Suo’s smirk widened, his weight pressing just enough to keep Sakura pinned without causing real pain. "Why not both? Humiliation is a great motivator."

"Motivator, my ass!" Sakura snapped, his face heating up as he struggled. "Get off me!"

He had been thrown to the dirt and tackled down countless times before, but now, with Suo pinning him to the mat in this damn training room, an unfamiliar frustration and humiliation surged through him. Maybe even a twinge of embarrassment.

Suo chuckled, finally releasing him and stepping back. "Lesson three: Learn to keep your cool. Losing your temper will only make you sloppy. And sloppy gets you killed."

Sakura sat up, glaring daggers at him. "Oh, I’ll show you sloppy," he muttered, brushing himself off.

Suo raised a brow, clearly entertained. "Big talk for someone who’s spent more time on the mat than on his feet. But I’ll give you credit—you’ve got spirit. That’s more than I can say for most."

Sakura stood, his hands clenched into fists. Suo’s skills were beyond anything Sakura had ever seen—his movements were almost effortless, a stark contrast to the raw, unpredictable way Sakura fought. If he could surpass this man, he’d prove himself to be someone significant in both his and Suo’s world.

"Keep talking, and I’ll knock that smirk off your face," Sakura declared, his resolve solidifying.

"Bold words," Suo said, his tone almost purring as he stepped closer. "But can you back them up?"

For a moment, the tension hung thick in the air, Suo’s teasing confidence clashing with Sakura’s fiery determination. Then, without warning, Sakura lunged again, this time feinting low before swinging high.

Suo barely dodged, his expression shifting from amused to genuinely impressed. "Better," he admitted, catching Sakura’s wrist mid-swing and twisting it just enough to throw him off balance.

Sakura staggered but didn’t fall this time, quickly recovering and pivoting to throw a kick. Suo blocked it with ease, but the force of it made him take a half-step back.

"Not bad," Suo said, his tone lighter now. "You’re learning."

"Damn right I am," Sakura shot back, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips despite his frustration.

Suo’s eye sparkled with approval, and he nodded toward the center of the mat. "Alright, one more round. Let’s see if you can actually land a hit this time."

Sakura cracked his knuckles, determination blazing in his eyes. "Oh, I will. Just you wait."

As the two squared off again, the training room seemed to buzz with an unspoken energy—Suo’s calm, calculated movements contrasting with Sakura’s raw, scrappy determination.

For all the bruises and banter, Sakura couldn’t help but feel something shift within him. This wasn’t just about learning to fight; it was about proving himself. To Suo, yes, but also to himself. And as Suo’s smirk softened into something almost resembling pride, Sakura knew he wasn’t just a stray anymore. He was part of something bigger.

Grumbling, Sakura pulled himself to his feet again after the sixth landing on the mat. Despite the sting to his pride, a small part of him couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. For the first time in his life, he was being taught to fight for more than just survival. And the man teaching him, as infuriating as he was, made it clear he wouldn’t settle for anything less than Sakura’s best.

Chapter Text

Sakura had been training relentlessly for the past month—hand-to-hand combat every other day, pushing himself until his body ached. It was all a blur of strikes, blocks, and the sharp rhythm of his breath. The basics had long been drilled into him, but every lesson with Suo seemed to unlock something more—an edge, a precision, a sense of control. Suo’s movements were flawless, and Sakura couldn’t help but chase them, eager to match him.

The other men in Suo’s family trained alongside him, their sparring matches loud and fierce. Sakura didn’t mind; he joined in with them, his energy matching theirs as they practiced the fundamentals. But when it came to exclusive lessons, new techniques, or sharpening his skills, it was always Suo who stepped in. Even though Suo was constantly busy—handling the affairs of the family, meetings, calls—he always made time for Sakura’s training. And it wasn’t like there weren’t any other teachers either, still, Suo made it clear only he himself would teach Sakura new techniques and skills.

“Hey, you’re not taking it easy on me, are you?” Sakura grinned between breaths, wiping the sweat off his brow after a particularly intense session.

Suo leaned against the wall, arms folded, his expression as calm as ever. "If I did, you'd never get any better," he said, his lips curving slightly as he tilted his head. "Besides, you'd never be satisfied with easy."

Sakura snorted. "Hell yeah," he said, eyeing the rest of the men training with their own instructors. "Still, I don’t see them getting this kind of exclusive treatment."

Suo raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a playful smirk. "What can I say? You’re my favorite student." He said it with such casual sincerity that Sakura almost didn’t catch the teasing undertone.

“Yeah, right,” Sakura muttered, his face flushing a bit despite himself. “I guess I should be flattered.”

Suo chuckled lightly, a low, rich sound. “You should be. Now stop complaining. I’ve got work to do.”

As the last sparring match ended, Suo nodded towards him. “That’s enough for today. Take a couple of days off. Pack some clothes. We’re visiting Umemiya for a few days.”

Sakura blinked, surprised. "Umemiya? I thought you said he was sick—"

“I know what I said,” Suo interrupted, his voice light, but his eyes were serious. “You’ve been working hard. A break will do you good. And Umemiya’s been asking to meet you.” He gave a short pause, his smirk returning. “Besides, you’ll get to see someone who isn’t me for a change.”

At that very moment, Sakura realized that he didn’t mind Suo being the only person that he got to see on a daily basis at all. The unbidden thought startled him a little but he dismissed it as quickly as it came. After all, he got to meet tons of Suo’s yakuza family members, who sooner or later, also became his, right?

Umemiya might be only a name when they came back here after their visit to the man. Probably.

“Yes, boss,” Sakura said with fake submission, his tone dripping with it. He knew Suo heard that sarcasm in it but the man always seemed to like that bratty side of Sakura. “I’m gonna get ready.”

Suo flashed a brief smile before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing in the spacious room. As he walked away, Sakura found himself watching him—his steady, assured movements, the way he carried himself. He had seen Suo like this so many times, but only now that Sakura caught his gaze lingering longer than usual, following Suo’s every step.

Maybe it was because today Suo didn’t wear a shirt and pants, or even his training suits either. The man was in a simple yukata that he barely wrapped the obi sash around his waist tight enough—that for some brief moments during their training, Sakura had caught a glimpse of his chest and blushed and told himself that it was the exertion that heated up his body. And he couldn’t take the image of Suo’s tattoo off his mind either.

He had got his chance of seeing it more today. It was indeed a masterpiece of a fox that seemed to expand deep towards Suo’s abdomen. Sakura only caught some parts of it. The head of the fox spanned across Suo’s heart, inked with striking precision, the fur a vivid blend of fiery orange and deep crimson, with sharp black accents tracing along its ears.

Swirling clouds framed the fox, their dark, shadowy lines creating a dynamic contrast against his skin. A few maple leaves floated around it, their rich red tones adding a touch of fleeting beauty. The fox’s face was hauntingly elegant, its red eyes sharp and piercing, holding a gaze that seemed both playful and calculating, a reflection of Suo himself.

Sakura got the feeling that it wasn’t just art—it was a part of Suo. A symbol of cleverness and strength, of a man who thrived on strategy and walked the fine line between charm and danger.

He quickly shook his head, snapping himself out of the thought before his face could betray him and gave him away with how much he wanted to see Suo’s full tattoo.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, turning away to gather his things.

But yeah, Suo looked so fine today. That much Sakura couldn’t deny.

———

Umemiya’s residence seemed to be deep in the urban area, judging by how long it took the driver to navigate through the city to reach it.

If Sakura hadn’t known better, he might have mistaken the mansion for an oversized garden rather than a home. The house itself was small—at least compared to Suo’s sprawling estate, which had undoubtedly skewed Sakura’s standards for mansions. But the garden? It was massive, filled to the brim with vegetables and fruit trees. No flower paths, no ponds, and hardly any proper roads to walk on.

“Your mentor’s a farmer or something?” Sakura asked, eyeing the rows of crops with mild disbelief.

Suo let out a laugh so loud it echoed through the garden. “You could say that. After all, he retired as an oyabun at thirty and decided to live the peaceful life of a gardener—alongside his former kobun Sugishita.”

His kobun? The word lingered in Sakura’s mind. He recalled it from the articles and books Suo had given him, always insisting they were “better than bedtime stories.” A kobun was the closest person to an oyabun, bound by loyalty and duty. Yet, as far as Sakura knew, Suo didn’t have a kobun of his own. He couldn’t help but wonder why.

Distracted by his thoughts, Sakura misstepped and crushed part of a strawberry patch beneath his foot. Before he could even process the mistake, a hand shot out and clamped around his neck.

“Urgh—!” Sakura choked, his breath caught as the grip tightened.

The attacker loomed tall, with long black hair and a wild, crazed look in his eyes that made them seem ready to pop out of their sockets.

Instinctively, Sakura reached up to pry the hand off his throat, but before he could make much of a struggle, Suo stepped in.

“Speak of the devil,” Suo said. His tone was as calm as ever, but the way his hand closed around Sugishita’s wrist, twisting it away from Sakura’s neck with a crack was sickening. “Bad Sugishita. You dare lay hands on my person?”

Sakura had never seen Suo angry before—not truly. The man was usually so collected, always radiating an easygoing calm. But now, despite the serene mask on his face, Suo’s crimson eye glinted with a cold, murderous fury as he held Sugishita’s wrist in a bone-crushing grip.

“My apologies, Suo-san,” Sugishita rasped, his voice gravelly but surprisingly steady. Despite his wrist being twisted to the brink, his expression had already settled back into something eerily composed. This guy’s insane, Sakura thought.

“Instincts got the better of me again,” Sugishita added, unfazed by the obvious pain.

Suo narrowed his eyes, holding the man’s wrist a moment longer, as if debating whether to break it outright. Finally, with a soft scoff, he let go and slipped his hands back into his pockets, his face returning to its usual tranquil expression.

“Lead the way, then,” Suo said, his easy smile back in place. “Your garden changes every time I visit. At this rate, the walking paths will disappear entirely.”

The abrupt shift in Suo’s demeanor left Sakura torn between intimidation and admiration. There was something about Suo’s duality—the calm charm and the underlying danger—that drew him in. Maybe I’ve got a thing for dangerous—and handsome guys, he thought ruefully. And, as if his stomach wasn’t already doing somersaults, Suo had just defended him with his mistake.

Sugishita wordlessly turned and led them toward the house, occasionally shooting glares back at Sakura—or maybe just checking to see if he’d step on another plant. Sakura clenched his fists, silently vowing to master his fighting skills one day so he could pay Sugishita back for today.

Just as he was stewing over his humiliation, he felt Suo’s hand brush the back of his neck. Startled, Sakura froze as Suo’s fingers slid forward, his thumb tilting Sakura’s chin up with gentle insistence.

“Hmm,” Suo mused, studying Sakura’s neck. “Not enough to bruise. Sugishita should feel lucky.”

With that, Suo strode off toward the house, his long strides leaving Sakura behind. Sakura stood there, sputtering incoherently and blushing redder than the strawberries he’d just trampled.

Sakura stepped into the main house, his gaze immediately drawn to the man sitting in the center of the tatami room. Umemiya was striking—white hair that flowed like silk framed his delicate features, and his bright blue eyes seemed to glow in the soft light of the room. He looked ethereal, almost unreal.

If not for the faint flush on his pale cheeks and the subtle heaviness in his breaths, Sakura would’ve assumed he was completely healthy. But even now, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a book, easily one of the most beautiful people Sakura had ever seen.

He glanced up as they entered, his kind eyes crinkling in a gentle smile. His gaze shifted to Sugishita, who was holding his wrist and bowing his head like a scolded puppy that had just tracked mud across a clean floor. With a soft, indulgent sigh, Umemiya waved him off. “Sugishita, go take care of your wrist. I can handle the tea myself—or Suo will.”

Sugishita’s head jerked up briefly at the dismissal before he retreated further into the house, leaving the three of them alone in the living room.

Without missing a beat, Suo made his way to the tatami, settling down gracefully as he began preparing the tea. The sight was rare. Sakura was used to seeing Suo giving orders, exuding authority and control. But here, watching him methodically brew tea with quiet precision, it was as if a different side of him emerged—soft, quiet, and strangely domestic.

For a moment, Suo didn’t look like the leader of one of the most powerful yakuza families, burdened by the lives of hundreds under his care. He looked peaceful, as though this simple act of brewing tea had stripped away the weight of his responsibilities.

And Sakura found himself wanting to memorize every second of it.

“Sakura-chan” Umemiya said, his voice warm and inviting, pulling him out of his staring. Umemiya lips curved into a smile that somehow felt both casual and genuine. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sakura blinked, surprised. “Y-You have?”

“Oh, yes,” Umemiya said, leaning forward slightly as if to take a closer look at him. “Suo talks about you all the time.” He grinned and then added in a playful tone, “I always know you’re his favorite person.”

Sakura’s face flushed instantly. “I—I don’t think that’s true—” he mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward.

Umemiya chuckled, waving a hand. “Relax. I’m just teasing. It’s nice to finally meet you, though. You’ve got something special about you.”

Something in Umemiya’s easygoing warmth reminded Sakura of Kotoha—her cheerful demeanor and the way she always made him feel valued. A pang of longing hit him unexpectedly, and his eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. He blinked them away quickly, hoping no one noticed. Even though they texted daily, Sakura still missed her so much. He just wanted to prove himself to Suo quicker, so he could help Kotoha out, or maybe ask Suo for his support.

Suo, already settled comfortably with his cup of tea in hands, broke the moment by asking, “How’s your health, Umemiya-san? You don’t look like you’re fully recovered yet.”

Umemiya sighed, brushing a pale hand through his white hair. “Still the same. There’s a doctor who might be able to help, but—” His voice trailed off, and a shadow passed over his expression.

“She’s under his influence,” Suo finished, his tone sharp.

His? Who is his? Sakura’s mind raced. Maybe it was the person that Suo wanted to take revenge on. He wanted to ask who it was, but kept it to himself. If Suo needed him to know, he would tell him.

Umemiya nodded. “Exactly. Don’t concern yourself with me, though. Focus on your plan. If it works, all of us will benefit—not just me.”

Suo’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing for a moment. Finally, he nodded and took a sip of his tea, his calm demeanor returning.

Umemiya smiled faintly before changing the subject. “Actually, I called you here today because there’s a job I think you should take. Tomiyama reached out to me. He’s asked for help with something, but—” He gestured to himself. “Well, I’m not exactly in the best shape to handle it right now.”

Suo’s eye narrowed slightly. “Oyabun of District 3 asked for your help? That’s unexpected.”

“Yes.” Umemiya tilted his head, watching Suo carefully. “I know you’ve had issues with his kobun, Togame, in the past. But this could be a good opportunity to strengthen ties between your families. And let’s be honest, Suo—you will need an ally as powerful as Tomiyama family for the upcoming war.”

War? Sakura couldn’t help but widen his eye. So this was it. His life would be in the battlefield soon enough. Despite feeling shaken by the information, Sakura felt strangely ready for anything that was erupting too.

After a brief pause, Suo leaned back, a thoughtful smile crossing his lips. “I’ll take it.”

Umemiya’s smile widened. “Good. I thought you might.”

Suo turned to Sakura, his expression softening slightly. “This will be your first job with me,” he said. “From now on, your training will be more intense. You’ll need to learn the underworld’s rules, the core dynamics of our world, and who’s who—both friends and enemies. Think you can handle it?”

Sakura straightened, his determination burning in his chest. “Yes. I’ll do my best, boss.”

“Good boy,” Suo chuckled, satisfied. Sakura couldn’t tell his words as just another form of mocking or genuinely an endearment. He still flushed all the same.

As the evening deepened, Suo glanced at Sakura and said, “You’ll stay here for three days.”

Sakura blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”

“I’ve got business to take care of,” Suo replied casually, standing and about to leave. “In the meantime, Umemiya will teach you what you need to know—underworld codes, alliances, rivals. Consider it part of your training.”

Sakura frowned but nodded. “Alright. But—“ He hesitated. “Will you be okay?”

Suo smirked, his crimson eye glinting under the dim light. “You’re worried about me already? Cute.”

“I’m not worried!” Sakura snapped, his cheeks burning. “I was just—making sure you’re not ditching me!”

“Mm-hmm.” Suo’s smirk widened as he turned to leave. “Behave yourself, Sakura-kun. Umemiya-san can be a bit of a handful.”

As the door slid shut behind him, Sakura scowled. “What’s supposed to mean?”

Umemiya, who had been quietly observing their exchange with an amused smile, finally spoke. “Don’t mind him. Suo’s always had a flair for dramatics.” He gestured for Sakura to sit across from him.

As Suo bid farewell to Umemiya, the older man walked him out through the garden. From where he stood, Sakura overheard Umemiya say, “I’m glad you got to him first, Suo.”

The words lingered in Sakura’s mind, sparking questions he couldn’t ignore. Who, exactly, had Suo beaten to finding him? And was it really just coincidence that Suo had come across him in that alleyway that day?

As his thoughts wandered, Sugishita appeared out of nowhere again and bodily dragging Sakura toward the bathroom and motioned him to wash his foot and changed his pants that had been stained with soils and strawberries.

“Don’t make Umemiya-san’s floors dirty, you bicolor popsicle.” Sugishita barked as Sakura struggled in his hold toward the bathroom. He was still very strong even with his wrist in bandages.

If Umemiya came back to find the two of them fighting in the bathroom and got upset, he didn’t show. Actually, he just laughed and the warm sound carried through the small house.

———

On his third day of staying at Umemiya’s place—luckily without more encounters with Sugishita than necessary, Sakura had a newfound appreciation for how complicated the underworld could be. Umemiya was a patient teacher, explaining everything in simple terms, but the sheer number of names, codes, and unspoken rules left Sakura’s head spinning. And true to Suo’s words, he was a handful. Besides the already overwhelming information and knowledge of the underworld, he also gave Sakura endless gardening lessons that Sakura hardly digested at all, but he was surprised he was a quick learner when it came to cooking lessons. He didn’t even have time to think about what Suo was up to.

Still, he felt a flicker of pride at having learned so much in three days. As he waited outside the main house, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. Sakura perked up as he saw Suo approach, today wearing a grey turtleneck under a more informal black jacket despite the warmer weather.

Suo reached Sakura with his familiar smile, though his usual sharp aura dulled by exhaustion. Dark shadows lingered under his eyes, and his movements were slower than usual.

“Suo,” Sakura greeted excitedly, but his voice softened in concern when he took in Suo’s state. “Are you okay? You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

Suo waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing to worry about.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Sakura-kun.” Suo’s tone was firm, but not unkind. “It’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”

Sakura’s stomach twisted with frustration. He bit back his words, forcing himself to nod. You’ve only known him for a month, he reminded himself. You’re not close enough to pry into his business. Don’t be so sensitive.

Even so, the rejection of his concern stung.

As they walked back through Umemiya’s garden, Sakura glanced at Suo, who was staring straight ahead as though lost in thought. He remembered his stay at Umemiya’s and decided to change the subject.

“Umemiya-san,” he began, his voice hesitant, “I think I understand why you respect Umemiya so much. He’s really amazing.”

Suo turned his head slightly, one crimson brow arching in mild amusement. “Oh? Amazing, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sakura said earnestly. “He’s calm, smart, and… I don’t know, he just has this aura about him. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Suo slowed his pace, and Sakura noticed his jaw tighten briefly. Then, Suo turned to him with a sly smile, but there was something sharp in his gaze.

“I’m glad you think so,” Suo said, his tone light but laced with something unreadable. “But don’t go admiring him too much. I’d hate to think you’re more impressed by him than by me.”

Sakura blinked, startled. “What? I wasn’t—”

Suo’s smirk widened as he leaned closer, his crimson eye glinting with amusement. “Good. I’d rather keep your admiration all to myself.”

Sakura stared at him, his face heating up as he struggled to process Suo’s words. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I don’t admire you at all,” he snapped, thoroughly confused.

Suo chuckled softly, his exhaustion seemingly forgotten as he briefly patted Sakura’s shoulder before walking ahead. “Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”

Sakura stood there for a moment, flustered and completely clueless, before jogging to catch up with him, wondering why his heart was racing so much.

———

The soft click of Suo’s footsteps echoed across the polished wood floors of the dojo room. The early morning light filtered through the shoji screens, casting long shadows over the neatly arranged training weapons lining the walls. In the center of the room, Sakura stood stiffly, his black-and-white hair slightly disheveled, sweat already gathering on his brow.

“Relax, Sakura,” Suo said, his voice smooth yet tinged with amusement. He tapped a wooden bokken against his shoulder, the mock sword looking weightless in his grasp. “You’re so tense, it’s like you’re trying to intimidate the floor.”

“I’m not tense!” Sakura barked, though his shoulders betrayed him by creeping higher toward his ears. He tightened his grip on his own bokken, the polished wood slipping slightly from his sweaty palms.

Suo chuckled, stepping closer with an air of practiced calm. “If I were your enemy, you’d be on the ground already. Don’t let your emotions control you. They’ll get you killed faster than a bad swing.”

Sakura scowled but nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Got it. Stay calm. What’s next?”

“Next?” Suo’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Don’t grip your weapon like it’s your lifeline. You’ll tire out before you even land a hit. Here.” He moved behind Sakura, reaching out to adjust his grip. His hands were firm but careful as he positioned Sakura’s fingers correctly on the bokken’s hilt.

“There. Feel the difference?” Suo asked, his breath warm against Sakura’s ear.

Sakura’s face went red instantly. “Y-yeah. Fine.”

Suo raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing but saying nothing. He stepped back, spinning his own bokken lazily in one hand. “Let’s start with defense. Show me how you’d block an attack.”

Sakura nodded, raising the bokken to chest height, ready to parry. Suo lunged forward without warning, swinging the wooden sword in a swift arc. The impact of their weapons meeting sent a shock up Sakura’s arms, his stance wobbling as he struggled to keep his balance.

“Too stiff,” Suo said, stepping back gracefully. “If you’re rigid, you’ll break under pressure. Think of it like water—flow with the attack, don’t fight against it.”

“Water,” Sakura muttered, shaking out his arms. “Right. Got it.”

“Good. Again.” Suo didn’t wait for a response, stepping forward and striking again—faster this time. Sakura barely managed to block, his bokken scraping awkwardly against Suo’s.

Suo grinned, his eyes gleaming with playful challenge. “Not bad. But can you dodge?”

Before Sakura could answer, Suo moved again, his swing aimed low. Sakura yelped, hopping back just in time to avoid a solid hit to his shin. His foot caught on the edge of the mat, and he stumbled, barely catching himself.

“You’re trying too hard to predict me,” Suo said, lowering his bokken. “Focus on reacting, not overthinking.”

Sakura groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “You make it look so easy.”

“That’s because I’m not overthinking,” Suo replied with a smirk. “Here, let’s switch it up.” He walked to the wall, replacing his bokken with a sheathed tanto—a wooden training knife. He tossed it to Sakura, who caught it with clumsy hands.

“Now, pretend I’m unarmed. What would you do if I got too close?” Suo asked, stepping toward him with measured movements.

Sakura tightened his grip on the knife, his brows furrowed in concentration. “I’d—stab you?”

Suo laughed. “Direct. I like it. But not quite.” In one fluid motion, Suo closed the distance, twisting Sakura’s wrist just enough to disarm him. The wooden knife clattered to the floor as Suo pinned Sakura’s arm behind his back.

“You’re thinking like a street brawler,” Suo murmured near Sakura’s ear. “In a real fight, your opponent won’t give you time to plan. Use what’s around you. Improvise.” He released Sakura and stepped back, his expression softening.

Sakura picked up the knife, his jaw tight. “Improvise. Right.”

Suo tilted his head, studying him. “You’ve got the instincts, Sakura. I saw that when I found you. But instincts alone won’t keep you alive. That’s why we train. So when the time comes, you’ll move without thinking.”

The words hit something deep in Sakura. He straightened, gripping the knife more carefully this time. “Okay. Let’s go again.”

Suo’s grin widened, and he raised his bokken. “That’s the spirit. But don’t get cocky—I’m still going to beat you.”

The dojo echoed with the sharp crack of wood against wood as Suo pressed Sakura harder. Sweat dripped down Sakura’s brow as he dodged, blocked, and occasionally stumbled under the relentless pressure of Suo’s attacks.

“Your stance is better,” Suo noted, circling him like a predator. “But your eyes are giving you away.”

Sakura wiped his face with the back of his hand, panting. “What do you mean?”

Suo raised his bokken, feigning a casual swing. “You’re looking at my weapon. That tells me exactly where you’re focused. Instead, look here.” He pointed to his chest. “My center. You’ll see the attack coming without chasing the weapon.”

Sakura shifted, adjusting his posture. He tightened his grip on the training knife and kept his eyes locked on Suo’s chest.

“Better,” Suo said approvingly. Then, without warning, he moved again, faster this time. His bokken swung in a diagonal slash toward Sakura’s shoulder.

Sakura ducked, pivoted on his heel, and lunged forward, aiming the knife toward Suo’s side.

But Suo was quicker. He sidestepped gracefully, catching Sakura’s wrist mid-thrust and twisting it just enough to force the knife from his hand. Before Sakura could react, Suo swept his legs out from under him.

Sakura hit the mat with a grunt, staring up at the ceiling in frustration. “Damn it.”

“Not bad,” Suo said, offering a hand to pull him up. “But you’re still hesitating. If this were a real fight, that pause would have cost you your life.”

Sakura took his hand, his grip firm despite his frustration. “I’ll get it. Just give me time.”

Suo smirked. “Time isn’t always a luxury we have. But I see you’re improving.” He stepped back, tossing the bokken onto a nearby rack. “That’s enough for now. Rest for a bit. Tomorrow we’ll move on to something more serious.”

———

The atmosphere in the training room shifted as they moved from their normal warmups to the firearms section the next morning. The room’s walls were lined with locked cases of weapons, ranging from pistols to rifles, all meticulously maintained. Suo opened one of the cases, his expression devoid of the teasing warmth he’d shown earlier.

Sakura stood silently, his eyes drawn to the array of firearms before him. He had always seen weapons as tools of survival—knives and fists, raw and immediate—but the sleek, cold steel of the gun in Suo’s hand felt like something else entirely. When Suo turned and handed the weapon to him, Sakura hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it.

The weight of the handgun surprised him. It was heavier than it looked, solid and unyielding in his grasp. His palms were damp, and he tightened his grip instinctively, afraid it might slip. He glanced at Suo, who was watching him with a calm, unreadable expression.

“This isn’t a bokken or a knife,” Suo began, his voice low and measured. “A gun doesn’t give second chances. One pull of the trigger, and it’s over. You don’t aim unless you’re prepared to kill.”

Sakura nodded, but inside, a knot of unease tightened in his chest. He had fought before, taken punches, thrown his own, and even wielded blades when the situation demanded it. But this felt different. A gun wasn’t a weapon of proximity; it was a weapon of finality. The idea of taking a life from a distance, without feeling the resistance of another body, made his hands tremble ever so slightly.

“Do you understand?” Suo’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharper now, as if testing him.

Sakura swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders. “I understand,” he said, though his voice was quieter than usual.

Suo turned to him, his piercing gaze locking onto Sakura. “Once you take a life, you can’t take it back. And in our world, you will have to make that choice one day. You need to be ready.”

Sakura nodded, his jaw tightening. “I’ll do what I have to, for you.”

Suo’s expression softened briefly, but he didn’t let it linger. “Good. Then let’s make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Suo handed the gun to him fully, guiding his hands to hold it properly. “This is a Glock 17. Reliable, easy to handle. Always check the safety first.” He flipped the switch to demonstrate. “Never assume it’s off, even if you’re sure.”

Sakura mimicked the motion, focusing intently. He adjusted his grip, the metal cool against his skin.

“Next, your stance.” Suo stepped behind him, adjusting Sakura’s arms and shoulders. “Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Keep your grip firm but don’t strangle the gun.”

Sakura nodded, focusing intently as Suo continued. “Your dominant hand does most of the work, but your other hand supports. Line up the sights with your target, and don’t jerk the trigger. It’s a smooth pull, not a tug.”

“Got it, boss.” Sakura locked his gaze on the paper target at the far end of the range, willing himself to focus, his unease gradually giving way to determination.

“Take a shot. Slowly,” Suo instructed.

Sakura exhaled, steadying his shaking hands. When his finger curled around the trigger, he felt a sharp pang of hesitation. Would this be the same as drawing blood with a knife? Or was it something worse? He pushed the thought aside and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang out, louder than he expected, making his heart skip a beat. The recoil jolted up his arms, and the faint smell of gunpowder filled the air. He blinked at the target. The bullet had landed on the outer ring, nowhere near the center.

“Not bad for your first try,” Suo said, stepping aside to let Sakura adjust.

Sakura barely heard him, his mind racing. He stared down at the gun in his hands, its power humming in his fingertips. He felt a strange mix of emotions—relief that he had hit the target, guilt for holding a weapon designed to kill, and a faint, growing confidence that maybe he could handle this after all.

Suo’s voice snapped him back to reality. “You’re overthinking again. Relax your shoulders and trust yourself.”

Sakura tightened his grip, aiming again. This time, he focused less on the mechanics and more on the flow of movement. The second shot landed closer to the center, the impact settling something inside him.

“There you go,” Suo said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Now let’s make it harder.”

He walked to the control panel and activated the moving targets. The paper targets began to slide side to side, their speeds varying unpredictably.

“In real life, your target won’t stand still,” Suo said, his voice sharpening. “They’ll move. They’ll fight back. And if you miss, they’ll take you out instead. Aim quickly, but don’t rush.”

Sakura wiped his palms on his pants, gripping the gun tightly. The first shot missed, grazing the edge of the target. The second hit closer to the center. By the third shot, he managed to land a solid hit.

“Good,” Suo said, nodding in approval. “Now reload.”

Sakura hesitated, fumbling slightly as he ejected the empty magazine and reached for a new one. Suo stepped closer, his hands guiding Sakura’s. “Faster. You won’t always have time to stop and think.”

They repeated the exercise over and over, the tension in the room heavy but productive. By the end of the session, Sakura’s shots were more precise, his movements more fluid. He lowered the gun, his arms trembling from the effort but his expression resolute.

He handed the weapon back to Suo, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “I won’t let you down.”

Suo’s lips curved into a faint smile, though his eye remained serious. “I know you won’t. That’s why I chose you.”

Sakura nodded, his chest tight with pride and a lingering uncertainty he didn’t dare voice. He would learn. He would do whatever it took to protect Suo, even if it meant bearing the weight of this weapon—and the choices it forced him to make.

The training room felt eerily quiet now, save for the faint hum of the ventilation system. Suo had walked to the far side of the room to secure the remaining firearms, leaving Sakura momentarily alone with his thoughts.

He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers to shake off the tension. They weren’t just his hands anymore, he realized—they were tools now, capable of wielding a weapon that could decide life or death with a single movement. He thought of the sound of the gunshots, still ringing in his ears, and the way his heart had raced with each pull of the trigger. There was a strange, disquieting power in that.

He looked down at the target sheets on the table, now riddled with bullet holes. Most were far from perfect—several hits barely grazed the outer rings—but the sight still stirred something in him. Progress. This was progress. Yet, beneath that flicker of pride, an uncomfortable truth lingered. He hadn’t been holding a tool for protection; he’d been holding something designed to kill.

Sakura’s mind flashed back to the first shot he fired, the sharp recoil in his hands and the smell of gunpowder that burned in his nose. He remembered the jolt in his chest when the bullet had struck the target, the realization of what it meant to hold that kind of power. It wasn’t the same as using a blade or his fists—those required closeness, confrontation. A gun was cold, detached. Was this what Suo had carried with him all this time?

His gaze drifted to Suo, who was now locking the weapons cabinet with practiced ease. Suo seemed unaffected by the day’s training, his movements calm and efficient. He carried that same weight so effortlessly, as though it were second nature. Watching him, Sakura felt a mix of admiration and pressure. If he wanted to protect Suo then he had to bear that weight, too.

“You’re quiet,” Suo said suddenly, breaking Sakura’s train of thought. He turned, leaning casually against the counter as his sharp eye studied Sakura. “Thinking too hard again?”

Sakura rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to articulate the mess of emotions swirling inside him. “Just trying to process everything. Guns are… different.”

Suo tilted his head slightly, his expression softening just a fraction. “They are. That’s why I waited until now to teach you. You’re not a kid anymore, Sakura-kun. You’re ready for this, whether you feel it or not.”

Sakura’s shoulders tensed at those words. “What if I’m not?” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Suo stepped closer, crossing the space between them in a few steps. He placed a firm hand on Sakura’s shoulder, grounding him. “You are,” Suo said firmly. “You’re better than you think. You’ve come a long way, and you’ll keep going. Trust yourself. I do.”

The weight of those words settled over Sakura like a heavy blanket, but it wasn’t suffocating. It was grounding, steadying. Suo’s belief in him was a lifeline, pulling him out of his spiraling doubts.

“Thanks,” Sakura said quietly, his voice steadier now.

Suo smiled faintly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze before letting go. “Go take a break. Eat something and get a good rest tonight.”

As Suo turned to leave the room, Sakura called after him. “Suo.”

Suo paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’ll get better,” Sakura said, his voice carrying a quiet determination. “I’ll make sure you never have to doubt me.”

For a moment, Suo said nothing, his sharp gaze lingering on Sakura as if appraising him. Then, a rare, genuine smile touched his lips. “I’ve never doubted you, Sakura-kun. Not for a second.”

Sakura watched as Suo disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone in the training room once more. He glanced down at the target sheets again, the bullet holes a silent reminder of the path he’d chosen. No matter how heavy the weight of a gun felt in his hands, he would learn to carry it. For Suo, for himself—for the war they were facing together.

———

The mansion was quiet, the faint babbling of the ponds outside filling the stillness of the evening. Sakura had spent the past hour cleaning up the training room, replaying Suo’s words in his mind as he wiped down the counters and organized the equipment. Now, freshly showered and wearing a loose sweater, he found himself lingering in the kitchen, absently stirring a steaming bowl of miso soup.

The warmth from the bowl felt soothing against his still-sore hands. He flexed his fingers, recalling the recoil of the Glock and the steady pressure Suo had applied to correct his stance. His lips curled into a faint, sheepish smile as he remembered the rare hint of pride in Suo’s voice when he’d finally hit the center of the target.

“You’re zoning out again,” Suo’s familiar voice called from the doorway, startling Sakura.

Sakura nearly dropped the spoon, fumbling to place the bowl onto the counter before turning to glare half-heartedly at Suo. “Stop sneaking up on me.”

Suo chuckled as he stepped into the kitchen, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his slacks. Unlike Sakura, Suo looked effortlessly polished, his tailored black shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The only thing that marked his relaxing state was his long silky hair—which currently wasn’t tied back and cascaded down over his shoulders. Sakura really wanted to touch it. Even after a long day, he carried himself with the same air of confidence that both annoyed and captivated Sakura.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Suo replied, leaning against the counter. His sharp eyes flicked to the bowl. “Is that dinner, or just a midnight snack?”

“It’s both,” Sakura muttered, scooping up a bit of tofu with his spoon. “You already ate, didn’t you?”

Suo smirked, plucking a small rice cracker from the jar on the counter. “I did, but you’ve been sulking in here for a while, so I figured I’d check on you.”

“I’m not sulking,” Sakura snapped, though the heat rising to his cheeks betrayed him.

Suo raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better look at Sakura’s face. “You’re still thinking about the training, aren’t you?”

Sakura sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I guess. I just—I don’t want to screw up, you know? You trust me, and I don’t want to let you down.”

Suo’s teasing expression softened. He reached out and flicked Sakura lightly on the forehead, earning a yelp of protest. “You’re too hard on yourself. You did well today, better than most people would on their first try.”

Sakura scowled, rubbing his forehead. “That’s because you don’t tolerate mistakes.”

“Exactly,” Suo said with a smirk, leaning casually against the counter beside him. “But here’s the thing—you didn’t make any mistakes that mattered. You’re learning, Sakura. That’s what training is for. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be better than I ever was.”

Sakura stared at him, surprised by the unexpected sincerity in Suo’s tone. He felt a strange warmth rise in his chest, mingling with the lingering tension from earlier. Suo’s confidence in him wasn’t just encouraging—it was grounding, like an anchor in the chaos of his thoughts.

“I don’t think that’s possible. How could I be better than you?” Sakura said quietly, stirring his soup, his voice more subdued now.

Suo’s smirk widened into that cocky grin Sakura had once hated but, over time, found annoyingly charming.

“Well, of course you can. I am your teacher after all,” Suo said with mock arrogance before reaching out and ruffling Sakura’s hair like he was a kid.

Sakura was taken by surprise at the act, because, well, which kind of boss did that to their subordinates anyway. Somehow he felt like that he was being treated differently from the rest of Suo’s yakuza family members. And with that belief and privilege, Sakura retaliated, reaching out with his free hand and giving Suo a solid shove to the chest.

“You smug bastard,” he grumbled, though his tone was more gruff than angry.

Suo caught Sakura’s hand easily, his reflexes as sharp as ever. Before Sakura could yank it back, Suo did something that made his breath hitch—he rubbed his thumb on Sakura’s palm, his grip firm but oddly gentle.

“Rest your hands,” Suo said softly, his voice a rare shade of calm that bordered on affectionate. “We’ll need them tomorrow.”

Sakura barely had time to process the words before Suo released his hand and left the kitchen. Sakura rooted to the spot, staring at his palm like it held some sort of answer, his cheeks burning as the warmth from Suo’s touch lingered for the rest of his evening.

Chapter Text

The sleek black car hummed softly as it sped down the winding streets leading to Tomiyama's estate in District 3. Suo sat in the backseat, his fingers drumming idly on the armrest. Beside him, Sakura’s posture remained stiff, his eyes darting from window to window. The air between them was familiar, but Sakurara couldn’t help but feel the tension swirling within him.

“Stop fidgeting, Sakura-kun,” Suo teased, casting a sidelong glance at him. “You’re giving me anxiety just watching you.”

Sakura huffed, glaring out the window. “I’m not fidgeting,” he muttered under his breath, though the tightness in his body might give him away.

Suo smirked. “Sure, sure. Just make sure you don’t embarrass me when we meet Tomiyama. He’s a little fierce for his age.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean fierce?”

Suo shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The car rolled to a stop outside the penthouse, its tinted windows glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. The towering building loomed over the streets, a testament to Tomiyama’s success as an Oyabun. Sakura followed closely behind Suo as they made their way through the grand lobby and up to the private elevator, which whisked them up to the penthouse floor.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a lavish entrance with a minimalist yet refined design. Cool marble floors, delicate, well-placed greenery, and dark, polished wood furniture gave the entire place a modern, pristine elegance. A few steps further, and they were greeted by a set of glass doors leading into Tomiyama’s office.

Sakura’s eyes widened as he took in the office, the sprawling city skyline framing the view from floor-to-ceiling windows. There were no ostentatious displays of wealth, just sharp, minimalist design — a long glass desk, sleek leather chairs, and surprisingly a more traditional area with golden carpet embroidered with a big black symbol of a tiger head that resembled Komainu. But it wasn’t just the surroundings that caught Sakura’s attention. It was Tomiyama himself.

Sitting behind the desk, Tomiyama looked every bit like a high school student than the professional Oyabun at first glance. With his tousled blond hair and a youthful, almost boyish face, he seemed more like a spoiled child than a seasoned yakuza leader. His expression, though serious, carried an air of both innocence and confidence that didn’t quite match the expectations Sakura had of someone in his position. He certainly didn’t appear to have the cutthroat edge that most Oyabun carried.

Tomiyama practically jumped to greet them, his wide smile only further emphasizing his youth.

“I can’t believe you actually agreed to come here,” he said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and childish joy. “After all, I know there’s some bad blood between you and Togame.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow. Bad blood? He didn’t know much about Suo’s history with Togame, but it was clear that Suo wasn’t particularly fond of the guy with the way his mouth twitch in distaste at the name.

Suo settled into the chair with an air of nonchalance, leaning back as if he owned the room. He even casually propped one foot on the edge of the desk, his smirk infuriating. “Business is business, Tomiyama-san. Shall we cut to the chase? I don’t have all day.”

Sakura, standing stiffly by the door, couldn’t help but find it a bit funny. It was his first time accompanying Suo to a business meeting like this, and while he’d seen Suo pull off his fair share of theatrics, this brash impatience felt a little too intentional. It wasn’t like Suo to seem so hot-headed. No, this was a mask—a sharp, almost mocking one—and clearly meant to provoke Tomiyama.

And let’s be honest, Suo did have all day. In fact, his schedule after this meeting included something as mundane as taking Sakura shopping for some decent clothes.

Sakura could practically see a vein popping out on Tomiyama’s temple. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Suo-chan,” Tomiyama said, his tone sharpening as his polite facade cracked. “Togame walked straight into a trap and is now a hostage of your oh-so-close brother, Takiishi—the Oyabun of District 2.”

Brother? So Suo had a brother or something? But from the sound of it, Suo and this Takiishi guy weren’t close at all.

“Takiishi is no brother of mine,” Suo rolled his eye, heaving a long suffering sigh at the way Tomiyama was apparently mocking whatever the hell his relationship with Takiishi was. “Oh, and Togame should’ve been more careful, don’t you think?” Suo drawled, throwing in a dramatic shrug for effect. “To be honest, I couldn’t care less if the guy gets beat up—or worse.”

The comment struck a nerve. Tomiyama’s face darkened, his frustration barely contained. It was clear Togame wasn’t just a subordinate to him—he meant much more than that.

“Suo-chan,” Tomiyama said, his voice low and laced with warning. “Watch your tongue. I may be asking for your help, but don’t forget you’re still in my territory. Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t dare to teach you a lesson.”

Sakura was already moving before he even realized it, stepping away from the door to place himself squarely between Tomiyama and Suo. His stance was taut, every muscle poised to strike if it came to that. His eyes flashed furiously as he stare down at Tomiyama and growled, “Are you threatening my boss?”

Behind him, Suo chuckled softly, amused by the display. “Relax, Sakura-kun. Tomiyama’s all bark and no bite most days. Down, boy.”

Sakura froze, his pride stinging at the command, but he did as told, reluctantly stepping back and resuming his place by the door. Damn it. He felt less like a bodyguard and more like Suo’s obedient dog. How was it that Suo always managed to have this kind of hold on him?

“Who’s this feral dog, again? You know I don’t enjoy discussing business with lowly subordinates,” Tomiyama said lightly, though the glint in his eye betrayed more amusement than annoyance. In fact, he seemed utterly entertained by Sakura’s aggressive display.

“My Kobun,” Suo replied casually, lacing his fingers together as he leaned further back into his chair, the picture of unbothered confidence.

“Your Kobun?” Both Tomiyama and Sakura echoed in unison.

Sakura blinked, thoroughly thrown. When the hell did that happen? Did Suo promote him without saying anything? Was there supposed to be a ritual or something? Or was this just Suo’s way of spinning things to his advantage in the moment?

“Yes, soon,” Suo said, confirming the outrageous statement with an infuriatingly calm smile and a slight nod in Sakura’s direction.

Sakura stared, struggling to keep his mouth from dropping open. A knot of disbelief and horror tightened in his stomach as his mind raced for a rebuttal. But should he question Suo’s decision now, especially with a third person in the room? That could come across as disrespectful, and the last thing Sakura ever wanted was to make Suo lose face in front of others, so he kept the questions to himself.

Suo announcing Sakura as his kobun in the middle of an ordinary business meeting felt hasty, to say the least. But Sakura knew better—Suo never acted without purpose. The man was always calculating, weighing every move. Even Sugishita, trusted as Suo’s bodyguard, and Nirei, his indispensable strategist and advisor, weren’t officially his kobun. The realization that Suo had never chosen one before—and might have saved the role for someone like him—left Sakura both terrified and confused. The weight of such responsibility loomed large, yet it sparked something deep within him. Swallowing his uncertainty, he clenched his fists, vowing to himself that he would never let Suo regret his decision.

“Hmm.” Tomiyama mused, his gaze flicking between the two as if assessing the weight of Suo’s claim. “Alright, if you say so. Even though he doesn’t exactly look like a kobun with all that temper.”

“Hah?” Sakura was about to jump at him again but Tomiyama laughing stopped him.

“Bah ha ha ha, a very interesting boy you’ve got here, Suo-chan,” Tomiyama commented. “Togame would have loved someone so boisterous like him around.”

“Tsk,” Suo clicked his tongue at the mention of Togame again. Then he gave out an indulgent sigh and continued. “I will teach him manners later. As for now, I’ve heard you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a mess.”

Suo seemed to be much more like his normal self now, calm and collected, and professional as he listened to his business partner. So that was right that he enjoyed messing up with Tomiyama a bit before they got to the main business. Don’t have all day my ass, Sakura muttered to himself.

“It’s not just my mess—it’s Togame’s life on the line.” Tomiyama’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked much older all of a sudden.

Tomiyama leaned back, tension clear in his posture. “Takiishi and I had done business before, enough for me to trust him—foolishly, it seems. This time, he claimed he needed a loan, nothing out of the ordinary.

"When collection day came, Togame went with a small team to meet up with his Takiishi’s kobun, as usual. But it was a trap. Endo ambushed them with a much larger force and took Togame hostage. They dragged him straight to Takiishi’s stronghold.”

Tomiyama’s jaw tightened, his voice low with frustration. “It’s clear now—Takiishi’s using Togame as bait, trying to force me to give up part of District 3.”

“So he went straight for your weakness—Togame, huh?” Suo hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Typical of Takiishi. Took after his old man, after all.”

The old man? That mysterious figure every Oyabun Sakura had encountered seemed to mention before. Was he some kind of final boss, like in those video games Sakura used to glimpse the richer kids playing back in District 5?

The words hung in the air, loaded with a subtle edge. Suo’s smirk didn’t falter, but Sakura caught the flicker of something sharper in his gaze—something that hinted at how well Suo understood the way men like Takiishi operated.

“And as to why you need my help in this?” Suo crossed his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair, reclining again.

With the network of eyes and surveillance Suo had at his disposal, Sakura was certain Suo had all the details already but had shown up out of sheer obligation to hear it directly from the source.

“I’m stretched thin, Suo-chan. Defending against Takiishi’s incursions has already cost me resources, and I can’t risk escalating this into an all-out war. Too many innocent people could get caught in the crossfire.”

Tomiyama leaned forward, his gaze sharp as it locked with Suo’s. “And I know you understand Takiishi’s methods. You know how to handle him without turning everything into a bloodbath.” He let the silence linger for a beat, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried weight. “You two are the Master’s puppets, after all.”

The word "Master" had both Suo and Sakura react. Somehow the air in the room thickened, almost suffocating him. So, this was the man everyone was tipping their toes around. The Master. The one pulling the strings in this entire Yakuza world—or at least in Suo and Takiishi’s.

Suo remained relaxed in his seat, his usual smile in place, but there was an unmistakable shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightened, and the words that followed were laced with a venom Sakura had never heard from him before. “Tomiyama-san, don’t bring him up here. And I’m not anyone’s fucking puppet.”

It was Sakura’s first time hearing Suo curse. The words hung in the air like a blade ready to strike. The sudden rawness in his voice sent a dark wave through the room, as if the very mention of the Master had triggered something volatile deep within Suo.

Sakura instinctively shrank back. Somehow, as long as Suo remained cool and detached, Sakura felt an unwavering sense of safety in his presence. But now, with Suo visibly rattled, a shift in the air seemed to pull the ground from beneath Sakura as well. He hadn’t realized he would depend on Suo’s calmness this much.

Suo must have felt his unease. He suddenly turned, his gaze sharp as it locked onto Sakura. The usually composed and calculating Suo looked shaken, something raw and unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. It was the first time Sakura saw a crack in the armor Suo always wore so effortlessly, and it struck him harder than he expected.

Sakura couldn't decipher what had thrown Suo off balance, nor could he fully understand why he reached out, but instinct took over. His hand landed gently on Suo's shoulder, a tentative, almost protective squeeze. He didn’t know why it felt necessary, but in that moment, all he wanted was to steady Suo, to remind him they were in this together, whatever it was.

Suo instantly relaxed at Sakura’s action, offering him a small, discreet smile before quickly turned his attention back to Tomiyama, refocusing on Tomiyama. Sakura let his hand fall to his side, feeling the brief connection between them fade as the air shifted back to business.

Tomiyama, sensing the tension between them, wisely steered the conversation away from the topic of the Master, the childish urgency to his voice again as he returned to the matter at hand. “Look, I know you and Togame don’t exactly see eye to eye, but I need your help. If you do this, I won’t forget it. I’ll owe you a debt—one I’m ready to repay whenever you need.”

Suo leaned back, studying Tomiyama with mild judgement. “And what’s stopping you from pulling something like this on me in the future?”

Tomiyama’s gaze was unwavering. “You have my word, and you know what that means in our world.”

After a pause, Suo’s lips curved into a smile. “Alright then. But I’m giving this job to Sakura.”

Sakura blinked in surprise. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me.” Suo’s tone was light, but his gaze was firm. “You’re taking full responsibility for this mission. I trust you to handle it.”

Tomiyama raised an eyebrow. “You trust your kobun with something this important?”

“More than you trust some of your men, I’d wager.” Suo’s smirk deepened before he glanced at Sakura, his gaze intense. “Besides, if this works out, the debt your family owes will be to Sakura. Consider it an investment in his future.”

Tomiyama glanced between Sakura and Suo before nodding. “If you trust him, I trust him too.”

He moved toward a curio cabinet and pulled out a small flat cup, a sakazuki, along with a bottle of sake. He motioned Suo and Sakura to the more secluded, traditional area of the room where a large golden carpet with tiger head embroidery was spread on the floor and there were some items in the middle of it. The three of them knelt down onto the carpet, Sakura watching with rapt attention as Tomiya placed the cup on a tray before pouring the white clear liquid into it. “Let’s seal this the traditional way.”

Suo gave a approval hum as he watched Tomiyama take the first sip. After finishing half the cup, Tomiyama passed it to Suo, who gestured for Sakura to take it.

“Sakura will drink on my behalf,” Suo said, his voice sharp and leaving no room to argue.

Sakura swallowed nervously, his throat dry. It was his first time drinking alcohol, let alone to seal something as important as this. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the cup.

Suo caught his gaze, his expression steady and reassuring. Without a word, he reached out, his hand curling around Sakura’s. His thumb brushed softly over Sakura’s palm, guiding him to take the cup.

With Suo’s touch grounding him, Sakura’s hands steadied instantly as he lifted the cup to his lips. The sharp scent of sake filled his nose, and the liquid burned as it slid down his throat. Yet the heat mirrored the fire igniting within him—a steadfast resolve to prove himself worthy of Suo’s trust.

Tomiyama inclined his head. “It’s done, then. I’ll provide you with everything we know about Takiishi’s stronghold. I hope you’ll bring Togame back safely.”

Suo rose to his feet, motioning for Sakura to follow. “We’ll take it from here. And Tomiyama-san—” He paused at the door, his voice calm but pointed. “Remember your word.”

———

In their car back to District 1, Sakura couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight in his chest. Not because he had just taken his first mission, but something else entirely kept nagging at him.

“Suo, back when you said Tomiyama’s family would owe me instead of you, why did you make it sound like you were not going to be around?” Sakura asked, his heart sinking with the words.

Suo turned to look at him, his crimson eye losing some of its light making Sakura’s throat tighten. No smile, no chin rub, just a look that was almost sad.

“We’re in the yakuza world, remember? I can’t say what tomorrow holds, so as long as I’m here, I’ll try my best to build a better future for you.”

For me? But not with me? The thought surfaced unexpectedly, and Sakura couldn’t believe the strength of the bond he felt with someone he’d known for just over a month. Before he could dwell more on it, Suo ruffled his hair and flashed him the widest grin.

“Ha ha,” Suo laughed, though it hardly sounded genuine at all. “Don’t stress out, Sakura-kun. I’m an Oyabun after all, I have responsibilities to take care of all my family members.”

“Ho ho,” Sakura mimicked, snorting out an equally shallow laugh and swatted Suo’s hand away. “And here I thought I was your favorite.”

“Silly, of course you’re my favorite,” Suo chuckled, flicking his nose, much to Sakura’s annoyance. “I’m going to buy you a bunch of new clothes and take you to the most fancy-assed restaurant in town. How does that sound?”

At the mention of food, Sakura perked up instantly. “Hell yeah, that’s how my rich-assed boss should treat his kobun. Speaking of, did you really mean it when you said I’d be your kobun? I mean, I barely even did my job as a bodyguard properly.”

“A yakuza—especially an Oyabun—always keeps his words.” Suo leaned back, a sly grin playing on his lips. “Oh, and you’ve protected me plenty,” he said with a wink.

Sakura didn’t get him at all.

“If you call that time when I lured that dog away from you on our patrol last week protecting you, then I must say I’m overpaid for my job,” Sakura said with a shrug.

Suo barked out a laugh, at least it sounded real now. “I couldn’t help but imagine two dogs chasing each other. Good thing you were a fast runner.”

“Stop messing around,” Sakura huffed, crossing his arms. “Seriously, what’s going on in that clockwork brain of yours?”

Suo’s expression shifted, the humor fading into something more serious—almost rueful. “You’ll be conducting your first mission soon. It’s going to put you on the radar of the underworld—kind of a debut. All eyes will be on you, especially since you’re a member of the Hayato family—let’s say that I’m a famous Oyabun. I have to claim you as my Kobun quickly, so no one even dares to think about taking you from me. Not Takiishi, not fucking Togame, not anyone.”

“Do you mean the Master? Who is he?” Sakura asked, both curiosity and unease threading through his voice. He could feel it—the shadow this man cast over Suo, a dark influence he couldn't ignore.

Suo’s expression hardened immediately at the mention of the Master. The tension radiating off him was palpable.

“I said not to bring him up. There’s no need for you to know about him.”

“No need?” Sakura pressed, his brows furrowing. “We’re about to confront Takiishi. If he’s the Master’s puppet like Tomiyama said, at the very least, I should know who I’m finally dealing with. It’s only logical, isn’t it?”

“I said shut it, Sakura,” Suo snapped, his voice a whip-crack of authority that cut through the air. The chill in his tone was sharper than any blade, daring anyone to defy him. “You’re my Kobun, and you do not get to question me.”

Sakura’s mouth clamped shut instantly, his throat tightening as if the words had been choked out of him. Suo had never spoken to him like this before—never with such biting aggression. The sting of it twisted something raw and ugly in his chest, something that felt too much like hurt.

Sakura had no doubt he’d eventually have to confront the Master if he were to stick around with Suo. The idea alone made his chest tighten, but what unsettled him even more was Suo’s disdain. If a man as calculating as Suo harbored such bitterness, then the Master wasn’t just dangerous—he was a monster. The thought of standing face-to-face with someone like that sent a sharp jolt of dread through Sakura’s veins, and the thought of Suo and him not standing by each other against the man was even more terrifying.

Despite the swirling doubts and emotions, Sakura just nodded his head and muttered a small, “Yes, boss.”

Suo seemed to pick up on Sakura's distress, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. He reached over and tapped his index finger against Sakura's chest, making him jump slightly.

"Stop with that long face. You'll be getting a tattoo soon, right here," Suo said, his voice shifting back to its usual gentle lilt. Yet, he didn’t lift his finger from Sakura’s chest, resting it firmly over his racing heartbeat, which surely hadn’t gone unnoticed. "I’m working on the design. If you behave like a good boy, I might even let you have a say in it."

“I don’t even get to choose my own tattoo? On my own body? That’s tough, man,” Sakura whined, scrunching up his face to hide the heat creeping into his cheeks.

“Hmmm,” Suo rubbed his chin, musing again. “I sincerely doubt your taste.”

But I find you beautiful. Again, the thought was very unbidden and absolutely unwelcome to Sakura.

“Tsk,” Sakura huffed. “Whatever. You’re the boss after all.”

Suo gave him a cheeky smile. “Yes, I am. Now we’ll perform the ritual to make you my Kobun right after we rescue Jo-fucking-Togame,” Suo let out a long, exasperated sigh as though the mere mention of the man was a drain on his patience.

“Oh, right.” Sakura scratched his cheek sheepishly. “I almost forgot that. Let’s tell Hiragi-san to drive us back to the mansion. We should probably make a plan to save him soon.”

Suo’s smile turned sly, almost cruel. “Togame can wait another day, can’t he? If Takiishi’s using him as bait, he won’t hurt him too much.”

Sakura gasped, scandalized. “You’re evil, aren’t you? What’s your beef with Togame anyway?”

Suo crossed his arms over his chest, sulking. “Let’s just say he made fun of my old crush, and I may have punched him in the face.”

“What? You hold grudges over something like that?”

Suo gave him a side eye. “It was not trivial to me. If someone hurt my loved one, even behind their back, I would defend and protect them. Wouldn’t you do the same, Sakura-kun?”

Sakura had never had a crush on someone before, let alone calling someone his loved one. He didn’t know his answer to Suo’s question, but he knew he would throw hands at every next guy if they as much as disrespect Suo’s fashion sense. The realization startled him, and he quickly pushed the thought away. Maybe he had taken his role as Suo’s bodyguard, and soon his kobun, a bit too far. He kept the thought to himself and only answered the easy part of it.

“I don’t know. I haven’t crushed anyone.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Suo laughed, the sound light but knowing, as they drove toward the shopping center.

———

At the end of their shopping spree, Suo had picked out at least four bags of clothes for Sakura—enough for a week without repeating a single outfit. Sakura felt spoiled, and honestly, it wasn’t a bad feeling. Maybe being in a yakuza family wasn’t so awful after all.

As they walked toward the car waiting for them at the curb, a girl with wavy black hair approached. She could probably be called pretty, though Sakura’s gay brain struggled to find the right words to describe girls. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and gave Sakura a shy, sheepish smile.

“Hi, excuse me,” she said, her voice lilting and soft. “My phone died. Could I borrow yours to look up directions back to my place?”

Juggling the shopping bags, Sakura was about to fish his phone out of his jacket when Suo stepped in, raising an eyebrow with clear disapproval.

“There’s a police officer over there,” Suo said coolly, his tone as frosty as his stare. “They can help you, miss.”

The girl’s smile faltered, but she didn’t give up. She tugged at Sakura’s sleeve, her wide eyes practically sparkling with innocence. “Oh, it’s just for a minute. Please? I’d really appreciate it.”

Her voice was syrupy sweet, and while something about it made Sakura hesitate, his instinct to help kicked in. He glanced at Suo, whose expression had morphed into a scowl so sharp it could cut glass. After a long, reluctant sigh, Suo gave a curt nod, clearly just wanting to get it over with.

Sakura handed over his phone, keeping a careful hold on the shopping bags while the girl typed away. The silence stretched, with Suo glaring daggers at her while Sakura avoided eye contact altogether. After what felt like forever, she finally handed the phone back.

“Thank you so much!” she chirped, bowing quickly before hurrying off toward a group of giggling girls waiting nearby.

Sakura frowned, watching her retreating figure. “Weird. All her friends’ phones are dead too? That’s convenient.”

Suo let out a dramatic, exasperated sigh. “You’re a complete idiot. Hand me your phone.”

“What? You’re overreacting—”

Before Sakura could finish, Suo snatched the phone out of his hand and started tapping furiously at the screen. “You can never be too careful. She might’ve spied on your phone, hacked into your information, or—” He stopped mid-rant, his fingers freezing mid-swipe.

Sakura tilted his head curiously. “What? What is it?”

Suo quickly flicked back to the home screen, his expression unreadable as he shoved the phone back into Sakura’s hand. “She left you a little note.”

Confused, Sakura glanced at his phone and read the message aloud. “Hi, I’m Miyuka. I think you’re really cute. If you’re interested, here’s my number: 0xxxxxxxxx.”

Suo clapped a hand over his mouth, failing to hide his snickers. “Oh, Sakura-kun. You shouldn’t have read that out loud. Poor Miyuka would die of embarrassment.”

Sakura’s face flushed a deep red as he grumbled, “Well, she’d be more embarrassed if she knew I’m gay.”

With that, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stomped toward the car, his head bowed so low he hoped Suo wouldn’t notice just how red his face was from accidentally coming out in the middle of a shopping center.

Behind him, Suo’s guffaw echoed down the street.

———

That night, Sakura couldn’t stop thinking about Suo’s hands. It started off innocently enough—a comforting pat on the head when he did something well, a firm squeeze on the shoulder when he needed reassurance. But lately, it had gotten strange. Holding his hands a little too long, casually poking his chest, that was—totally out of the left field.

And, to make things worse, Suo was obnoxiously attractive. And tall. With long hair. And tattoos. And who the hell looks good with an eyepatch? Suo does.

Suo was right up all Sakura’s alley.

Sakura really needed help. Or got his rocks off.

Throwing any shred of decency out the window, Sakura yanked his sweatpants and boxers down to his knees and started to fondle himself. As long as he thought of some random faceless tattooed long-haired man touching him when he jerked off, it wouldn’t be too creepy and perverted, right? Totally fine. Totally normal. Right?

Before he could fully dive into his very neutral, definitely-not-Suo fantasy, the door to his room slammed open.

Sakura froze. Fucking Suo with his eye-scanning able to unlock all rooms in his goddamn mansion.

With the speed of light, Sakura yanked the blanket over himself and turned to face the wall.

“THE FUCK—YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?” he shrieked, voice cracking halfway through.

“Sakura-kun! Look, I beat your high score on Block Blast!” chirped Suo—the absolute demon with zero concept of privacy and personal space.

Sakura felt the bastard casually walking toward him calm and leisurely, like nothing about this moment was completely horrifying, like this was just another fucking typically Tuesday. Before he knew it, Suo was right at his futon, tugging at his shoulder and—lord have mercy on him—yanking the blanket away. With one big, dramatic flourish, the entire thing came off his body.

“Look, I beat—oh.”

“You little SHIT,” Sakura spat, his face hotter than the sun. Actually, his whole body was burning—boiling in the flames of humiliation. “GO DIE!”

“Oh,” Suo repeated, voice going up an octave, dripping with fake innocence. “I beat your high score while you were beating your meat. I see. I see.”

Apparently, after the initial—and ridiculously brief—moment of surprise, Suo managed to compose himself with the grace of a man who must have walked in on this sort of thing way too many times. But the crinkle of mischief in his crimson eye and the barely contained twitch of his lips screamed one thing loud and clear: he was plotting something very, very evil.

Sakura wished he were back in District 5, rotting in some trash bin, rather than enduring this moment—half-naked, half-hard, and fully at the mercy of a grinning menace who looked like he’d just won the damn lottery.

“Could you PLEASE leave?!” Sakura begged, trying to yank the duvet back up, but Suo held it out of reach like a cat playing with a mouse.

“Hmmm,” Suo mused, tapping his chin, like he was debating whether to comply.

“DON’T ‘HMMM’ ME!” Sakura screeched, flailing his leg out to kick at Suo, blind with rage and mortification.

Big mistake.

Suo caught his foot mid-air like it was nothing. “Hmm,” he mused again, tightening his grip just enough to make Sakura squirm. Fuck, the guy was strong.

Sakura thrashed like a wild animal, his shirt riding up, his sweatpants and boxers slipping out of his free leg, and his blanket all but useless at this point. By the time Suo seemed satisfied with Sakura suffering, he dropped his foot with a thud. Sakura was a flustered, half-exposed mess on the floor, staring up at his tormentor.

Suo, clearly enjoying himself far too much, gave Sakura a slow once-over before casually turning away. Finally, Sakura thought—hoped—he was leaving.

Except he wasn’t.

The dickhead only went to grab a chair, dragged it over with an obnoxious screech of wood against the floor, and sat down. He crossed one leg over the other, resting his chin on his palm like he was about to watch a movie.

“The fuck you doing?” He stuttered. Sakura realized that was the only coherent sentence he could muster since the moment Suo had stepped inside this room. His room.

A shit-eating grin plastered across Suo’s face. “Oh, nothing. Just waiting to see if you’re going for round two.”

“There wasn’t even round one to begin with, you fucker!” Sakura shrieked again.

“I see. So you were in the middle of round one” Suo said, his tone so casual it was insulting. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“GET OUT!” Sakura threw a pillow at Suo’s head, which he caught with ease and hugged against himself. He looked absolutely ridiculous, acting all cute and totally contrast to his evil sadistic soul.

“No, no, go ahead,” Suo said, gesturing vaguely. “Finish. I insist.”

Sakura stared at him, frozen in disbelief. “Are you fucking nuts?”

Suo shrugged, settling back in the chair. “I’ve been called worse.”

For a long moment, it was a battle of wills—Sakura glaring daggers, Suo smirking like he didn’t have a care in the world. Finally, with his dignity already in shambles and Suo refusing to leave, Sakura threw his blanket over his body and wrapped his hand around his still haft-hard cock. So apparently Suo always did whatever the hell he wanted to and no one could talk him down, and with Suo around like this—his loose yukata revealing half his chest again, Sakura’s dick couldn’t get down either.

“Fuck—Fine,” he muttered, turning his head away. “But you’d better not say a damn word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Suo replied, though the smug lilt in his voice said otherwise.

Sakura tried to focus, but Suo’s presence made it impossible. Every so often, he’d hear Suo cough dramatically or shift in his chair, making just enough noise to remind Sakura he was still there.

At one point, Suo casually asked, “Do you need tips? You look like you’re struggling.”

“SHUT UP!” Sakura barked. “I can’t fucking climax with a creep watching me like that.”

“Hmmm,” Suo hummed knowingly, his voice dripping with amusement. He casually extended his leg and, with his toes, yanked the blanket down Sakura’s body, revealing his dick again, causing the boy to yelp in pure panic.

“Hey, don’t—“ Sakura protested, but Suo cut him off with a smirk.

“I’m sure my presence will help you plenty with your little jerking-off session, am I right?” Suo said casually, spreading his legs and reclining back even further in the chair like it was his personal throne.

What the hell is this nuisance even yapping about?

“Actually, I saw your search history earlier at the shopping mall. Long hair gay porn, huh? Tattoo gay porn too? Hmmm, am I not the top result on your first relevant search page?”

If Sakura’s soul hadn’t already fled his body the moment Suo barged in, it surely would have left him then.

“You read my fucking search history? It’s fucking privacy, you asshole!” Sakura practically shouted in disbelief and he believed his voice must be carrying through the whole mansion. This asshole. How could he—?!!

“Firstly, I was checking your phone for spies. Totally justified. Secondly, you should’ve used incognito for that kind of thing. And lastly, that’s the phone I bought you, so technically it’s mine too. Right?” Suo finished with a wink.

Sakura was speechless. He didn’t know what he had done wrong to get himself in this kind of a mess. He just wished this were a very bad fucking dream.

Expect again, it wasn’t. Because the guy of his dreams kept talking.

“Should I help you more?” Suo asked, feigning concern, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

With that, he casually tossed the pillow he was hugging onto the floor, untied his obi sash, and let his yukata slide down and pool around his waist, revealing his bare skin in one smooth motion.

Sakura thought he might faint.

Suo’s upper body was a masterpiece of strength and elegance. His shoulders were strong yet not overly bulky, exuding a natural grace as he shifted. His chest was broad and defined, leading down to a toned stomach that hinted at discipline and control, each muscle carved with purpose.

And the tattoo.

Just as Sakura had guessed, the tattoo stretched down Suo’s abdomen, sweeping over his left shoulder and maybe onto his back. Surrounded by swirling black clouds and vivid red maple leaves, the fox was etched in breathtaking detail. Its sleek body twisted in a fluid, almost lifelike motion, as though caught mid-leap. Now that Sakura could see the full design, he noticed the fox wasn’t just leaping—it was playing, chasing a single cherry blossom. The pale pink flower stood out starkly against the rich hues of orange, red, and black, like it had drifted from another world, lost but still cherished.

“You’re staring,” Suo’s deep voice snapped him out of it.

“Because it’s beautiful,” Sakura admitted, his voice embarrassingly breathless even to his own ears.

Suo raised a delicate brow. “The fox?”

“The flower,” Sakura murmured, almost entranced. “It doesn’t fit, but I think—that’s why it’s beautiful.”

For a fleeting moment, something flashed in Suo’s crimson eye, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I think it’s beautiful too.”

He wasn’t looking at the tattoo, though. His eye lingered on Sakura, now filled with something so tender, so painfully vulnerable, it made Sakura’s chest ache in a way he didn’t understand.

Then, breaking the bubble with an almost nonchalant air, Suo reached back and untied his dark hair, letting it cascade over his shoulders like silk. He was smirking again. “Now, shall we continue?”

The shift snapped Sakura out of whatever emotion had gripped him—an emotion he couldn’t name and not ready to give up.

“We?” He asked dumbly.

“Yes, we,” Suo said smoothly, raking a hand through his hair. “Do exactly as I say, and I promise you’ll feel good. Do you want to feel good?”

Sakura swallowed hard. “Y-Yes, boss.”

“Good boy,” Suo chuckled, his soft vulnerability vanishing as his signature seductive smirk returned full force. Not that Sakura was complaining. Every side of Suo was maddeningly captivating.

“Lift your shirt and play with your nipples,” Suo instructed.

Sakura hesitated, his hands trembling slightly as they hovered over the hem of his shirt. His face burned bright red, and he averted his gaze, unable to meet Suo’s piercing stare.

“No, I—that’s embarrassing—” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do it,” Suo commanded, his tone firm and unyielding, sending an involuntary shiver down Sakura’s spine.

Swallowing his pride—and every ounce of his dignity—Sakura reluctantly lifted his shirt, exposing the smooth skin of his chest. His fingers twitched nervously as they ghosted over his nipples, his breath hitching the moment they made contact.

With someone next to him like this, the sensation was foreign and awkward at first, but as he circled them lightly with his fingertips, a quiet, involuntary whine escaped his lips. His cheeks burned hotter, and his eyes squeezed shut as if that could somehow make him forget Suo was sitting right there, watching his every move.

“Good,” Suo purred, his voice low and almost hypnotic. “Now, pinch them. Gently.”

Sakura bit his lip, trying to stifle another whine as he obeyed. The faint sting of his own touch made his knees press together, his body responding against his will. It was mortifying, but at the same time, Suo’s presence—his unwavering, commanding gaze—made him unable to stop.

“That’s it,” Suo murmured, leaning forward slightly, his smirk curling into something far more sinister and seductive. “See? You’re already doing so well.”

Sakura’s breathing grew heavier as he tugged at his sensitive skin, a faint whimper escaping before he could stop it. His body betrayed him completely, and all he could do was hope Suo wouldn’t push him further—not that he trusted the man to stop.

Sakura’s breaths were ragged, his chest rising and falling as Suo leaned forward, his crimson eye gleaming with something unreadable. His commanding presence dominated the room, and Sakura felt like he couldn’t hide—not his body, not his thoughts, nothing.

“Now use one of your hands to touch your cock,” Suo said, his voice steady but heavy with an undertone that made Sakura gulped.

Sakura hesitated, his face burning, but the weight of Suo’s gaze was suffocating. His trembling hand moved downward, brushing against his own skin. He flinched.

“I—this is—”

“Do it,” Suo cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a shaky inhale, Sakura slid his right hand down and wrapped his fingers around raging cock, the contact sending a jolt through his body. His eyes darted to Suo, who was not looking at where he touched himself but straight in his eyes.

“Good,” Suo murmured, his eye also hooded now. “Now move. Slowly. Dragging your foreskin with it.”

Sakura’s hand trembled as it moved, his thumb pressing lightly at the foreskin to drag it up and down like Suo had said. The sensation made his breath hitch, his head tilting back slightly. He tried to stay quiet, biting his lip to stifle the soft sounds escaping him, but Suo wasn’t having it.

“Don’t hold back,” Suo said, his voice dropping an octave. “I want to hear you.”

A quiet whimper slipped past Sakura’s lips, and his face burned even hotter.

“It—kinda feels like it’s not me touching myself, with the way you—watching and telling me stuff like that,” he whined, his voice shaking with the sensation.

Suo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Something dark crossed over his red eye. “Tell me something, Sakura-kun. Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

The question hit like a thunderclap. Sakura froze, his hand stilling as his wide, mismatched eyes met Suo’s.

“No,” he said quickly, almost stumbling over the word. “No one ever has.”

Suo exhaled slowly. Relief flickered over his features, but it was brief, replaced by something sharper.

“No one?” he asked again, his tone laced with murderous intensity. “You worked in an inn, didn’t you? A place like that—there must’ve been people who wanted to take advantage of you. Men with bad intentions. Just say their names and I—”

Sakura’s hand dropped to his side, his expression twisting with something like hurt.

“No one saw me that way,” he muttered, almost bitterly. “Because of—this.” He gestured vaguely to his mismatched eyes and bicolor features. “They thought I was a freak, not pretty. Not—desirable. Though I feel kinda lucky they saw me like that.”

For a moment, Suo didn’t say anything, but his breath ragged. His gaze softened as he reached down to brush a strand of hair from Sakura’s flushed face. “They were fools. And lucky for them too—”

Suo’s sentence hung like that. And the words made Sakura’s heart skip a beat, but he had no time to dwell on them.

“Now,” Suo said, his voice regaining its commanding edge, “Keep going. This time going lower. Fondle your balls and press your fingers in the middle softly. Feel the twinge.”

Sakura’s cheeks burned, but he obeyed, his free hand exploring further. The added sensation made him gasp, his movements becoming less hesitant as he lost himself in the heat building in his core. His breaths turned shallow, and soft moans slipped from his lips before he could stop them.

“Good,” Suo praised, leaning back in his chair. “Now lower.”

“Lower where?” Sakura asked him in mild disbelief.

“Lower there,” Suo deadpanned. “Your hole.”

“I don’t have lube here.” The words just slipped out of his mouth, unfiltered.

Suo barked a laugh. “What are you? Thirteen? Just play around the entrance a bit to feel the sensation. I don’t tell you to penetrate anything. Yet.”

The words sent goosebumps erupting all over his skin. And now he couldn’t stop imagining when that finally happened. With that fantasy in mind, he let his hand wander lower and rubbing his middle finger around the furls of his hole, feeling it twitch.

“Hah—this kinda feel good too,” Sakura admitted between pants.

Suo hummed in approval. “Now is the main dish. Use one hand to massage your ball, your hole, and the area between them. And use your other hand to work on your dick. Fast jerks first, then slow twists and then fast again. Build up your orgasm nicely.”

Sakura’s hands moved like they were hypnotized. His eyes drifted shut as he touched himself the way Suo lead him. His hips involuntarily thrusted upwards into his fist as his legs started to go strained and draw together. The pressure was building, sharp and overwhelming, until he felt like he was on the verge of breaking.

“Look at me,” Suo said, his tone low and commanding.

Sakura’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Suo’s intense gaze. That crimson eye seemed to pierce right through him, stripping away every defense. Looking at Suo and listening to his voice with this close proximity felt like it was actually Suo’s hands touching him in his most sensitive and private parts. And the thought struck him like lightning and his climax was threatening to crash down onto his every nerve.

“Ah—I—I’m close. I’m coming—” Sakura gasped, his voice trembling.

“Not yet. Hold it,” Suo said smoothly, his lips curving into a small, almost sadistic smile. “You will come when I tell you to.”

Sakura whimpered at the authority. His eyes teared up with how he was practically holding back his orgasm with sheer will.

“Hold tight at the base,” Suo ordered and Sakura—pathetically—obeyed.

For a long moment, the man simply sat there, watching Sakura writhe. Then, he leaned down, threading his fingers through Sakura’s hair and yanking his head off the futon. The sharp tug tilted Sakura’s head back, forcing his neck to arch, leaving it exposed. Suo’s intense gaze locked onto Sakura’s, and though white noise roared in Sakura’s ears, he saw the man form the word with his lips—more felt than heard.

“Come.”

As soon as he loosened his grip, the release hit him with overwhelming force, stealing the breath from his lungs. A strangled cry broke free from his throat as pleasure surged through him in relentless waves, leaving him trembling and gasping for air. His come spilled across his stomach, stray droplets landing on his chest and even brushing his chin. It should have felt disgusting, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He collapsed back against the futon, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as he turned his face away, attempting to hide the deep flush burning across his skin.

For a long moment, the room was filled only with the sound of Sakura’s ragged breathing. He kept his gaze stubbornly averted, refusing to meet Suo’s eye. The soft rustle of movement caught his attention, and he flinched when Suo’s touch grazed his stomach, wiping it clean with tissues from the desk. Before Sakura could react, Suo tilted his face toward him and dabbed at his chin, erasing the evidence of his release with the same calm efficiency. Suo then discarded the crumpled tissues onto the floor unceremoniously, straightening his yukata and tying the obi sash with practiced ease.

“Well,” Suo said, clapping his hands together as he stood. “That was educational.”

“GET. OUT.” Sakura punched the words out as he snatched up the discarded tissues and threw the crumpled ball at Suo, which missed a mile as Suo dodged it effortlessly.

The man smirked and bent down again, patting Sakura’s head like he was rewarding a dog. “Good work, Sakura-kun. I’ll be sure to leave a glowing review.”

Sakura screamed into his pillow as Suo strolled out of the room, whistling cheerfully like nothing had happened at all.

Fuckkk. He hated this man.

Or maybe he didn’t.

Chapter Text

“Pay attention, Sakura-kun.”

Sakura blinked, snapping back to the present. He hadn’t realized he’d been zoning out during the planning session for Togame’s rescue. The three of them stood around the office desk with Suo casually jotting yet another annotation onto the blueprints of Takiishi’s stronghold, and Nirei, perched over his laptop, cycling through live camera feeds of the area. They were both fully immersed in crafting a plan with minimal risk and maximum efficiency. And here Sakura was, well, replaying the events of last night in his head on an endless, mortifying loop, desperately telling himself it had all been a dream. A very bad dream.

“Sakura-chan, you look distracted today.” Nirei’s tone was curious, though his bright eyes sparkled with mischief. “Something happen? Oh, and I saw Suo leaving your room last night. Did he... bully you?”

Yes, Sakura thought. Yes, he absolutely did.

He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. And just like that, his worst fear materialized: it wasn’t a dream. It was horrifyingly, inescapably real. To make matters worse, someone saw Suo leaving after the act.

Suo chuckled. The bastard. The audacity to chuckle after what he’d done.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it bullying,” Suo said, his crimson eye gleaming with unholy delight. “I even helped Sakura out. In fact, he admitted it was the best clim—whoosp—”

Sakura moved before he knew it. One second, he was standing stiffly beside the desk; the next, he’d practically vaulted over it, clamping his hand over Suo’s mouth mid-sentence. The force of his movement nearly knocked the blueprint pad skittering to the floor.

Nirei froze, his wide-eyed gaze bouncing between them. His expression screamed incredulous disbelief, but the sharp glint in his eyes said he wasn’t about to let this slide. “The best what?”

“Clim—climbing the ranks!” Sakura blurted, his words tripping over themselves in his rush to salvage the situation. “Yeah, that’s it! We, uh, played a game. A leaderboard thing. And Suo helped me climb it!”

Suo’s muffled laughter vibrated against Sakura’s palm, and the glint in his eye told Sakura he wasn’t about to let him off the hook either.

“Is that so?” Nirei drawled, leaning back in his chair with an expression that was far too amused for Sakura’s liking. “I didn’t realize Suo was so generous when it comes to helping others climb things.”

Sakura’s face burned. “Can we please focus on the mission?” he barked, removing his hand from Suo’s mouth and scowling at both of them.

“Of course,” Suo said smoothly, as though the entire incident had been beneath his notice. His smirk, however, told a different story.

Nirei hummed noncommittally but didn’t press further, much to Sakura’s relief.

Sakura turned his attention back to the blueprint, his eyes tracing the route Suo had marked out for him. It was clearly the safest one, with the least number of guards stationed. That alone made him pause, curiosity bubbling up.

“How do you know all of this?” Sakura asked, his tone a mix of skepticism and genuine curiosity. “The entry points, the camera blind spots, even the guard rotations—it’s almost like you’ve lived there.”

Suo’s smirk widened, his crimson eye flicking briefly to Sakura before returning to the blueprint. “That’s because I did live there,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual. “Before the Master handed the place to Takiishi, it was where I lived. I spent years in that stronghold. I know every corridor, every shortcut, and every hidden passage better than Takiishi ever will.”

Sakura blinked in surprise. He hadn’t realized Suo had such a deep connection to the place.

“As for the camera blind spots,” Suo continued, “I noted them down during a few business trips to meet with Takiishi. Let’s just say I have a habit of wandering around places I’m supposed to stay put in. Then, I came back here and hacked into his security system to map out all the areas I walked through without being caught on camera.”

“You hacked his system?” Sakura asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course,” Suo replied smoothly. “First off, Takiishi’s a brute. His brain is filled with fists and guns—there’s no room for schemes. The idea of someone casually strolling through his fortress, gathering intel, would never even cross his mind. Secondly, and quite conveniently, one of the guys who installed the security system had a nasty gambling problem. I settled his debt in exchange for access.”

“But why go through all that trouble?” Sakura asked, narrowing his eyes. “Why’d you want surveillance on Takiishi in the first place?”

“Takiishi’s the Master’s loyal dog,” Suo said, his tone darkening slightly. “Even though we’re technically on the same side, we’re rivals. Keeping tabs on him just seemed prudent. Better to know if he’s planning something before he tries to bite.”

Sakura considered that for a moment, then frowned. “If that’s the case, don’t you think he might have hacked into our system too?”

“Oh, I believe he has,” Suo replied, leaning back in his chair. “In fact, our system triggered an intrusion alert just before we first met. But this mansion was built and constructed by myself and the security system was setup by Nirei himself so outsiders wouldn’t be able to spy on a deeper level. Hopefully. Nirei blocked the intrusion attempts immediately, but we can never be too prepared. Especially after this rescue mission, all pretense of civility between Takiishi and me will be gone. He’ll come for me sooner than I expected—or planned.”

Suo’s smirk returned, this time sharper, more dangerous. “So be ready. And rest assured, Tomiyama and his family will pay what they owe us for pulling Togame out of this mess.”

Sakura gave a small nod, his jaw tightening. This mission was shaping up to be more than just a rescue—it felt like the beginning of something much bigger.

“The backdoor into Takiishi’s system is still functional,” Nirei said, his fingers flying across the keyboard. His tone was confident, but Sakura caught the subtle tightness in his jaw. “For now.”

Sakura crossed his arms, frowning. “How long will this backdoor stay open? If Takiishi’s smart, he’ll catch on eventually.”

“That’s the thing,” Nirei said, glancing at Sakura. “It won’t. At least, not immediately. Once I start looping the camera feeds, we’ll have a maximum of thirty minutes before the system reboots and the guards realize something’s off. That’s your window to get in, grab Togame, and get out.”

“Thirty minutes?” Sakura repeated, incredulous. “That’s cutting it close.”

“Not close. Precise,” Suo interjected, his voice calm. He leaned forward, tapping a section of the blueprint with his pen. “You’ll take this route to the cells. Fewer cameras, light patrol. But if things don’t go as planned, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Surviving in District 5 must’ve made you an expert at sneaking out of trouble like a rat, right?”

The words stung, but Suo’s tone was too breezy to take offense.

“Hey, you could’ve just said I’m perfect for infiltration missions!” Sakura shot back, flipping him off. “And if things do go to hell, you’ll come up with plan B like always, so why stressing about it?”

“Ah—I’m not coming with you,” Suo said, flicking his finger in an exaggerated, almost theatrical manner.

“What—What do you mean you’re not coming with me?” Sakura stammered, his voice pitching slightly higher than intended.

“Relax,” Suo said with a grin, his chuckle low and far too amused for Sakura’s liking. “I’m sending Sugishita with you.”

“Fuck! Of all people, why does it have to be Sugishita? It’s my first mission, why—”

Suo cut him off with a lazy wave, as if dismissing the very concept of complaints. “Exactly because it’s your first mission. Sugishita has plenty of field experience. Sure, he may seem like a brute, but as long as no one bad-mouths his precious Umemiya-san, he’s more than capable of handling most situations.”

“He’s going to talk my ear off the whole time,” Sakura groaned, his mind flashing back to the countless trips he’d made to Umemiya’s place. Sure, some were for lessons on Yakuza protocol, but most ended with him squabbling with Sugishita. The guy never shut up—always barking orders, nitpicking every move, telling him to add ‘san’ when addressing his precious Umemiya, mocking Sakura’s punches for being as weak as mosquito bites, and loudly questioning why Suo had taken in some good-for-nothing youngster like him.

It always escalated into petty fights. One time, when Sugishita’s jab landed a little too hard, Sakura had had to come up with a ridiculous excuse to explain the swelling on his cheek to Suo—claiming he’d slipped in the garden. If Suo had known the truth, well… Sakura shuddered at the thought. Suo breaking Sugishita’s wrist during their first meeting was still fresh in his memory.

Not that Sakura hadn’t gotten his revenge. Sugishita had walked away from that scuffle with a broken nose. Still, having to endure him for this mission? “That jerk might kill me before Takiishi’s men even get the chance,” Sakura muttered under his breath.

“Heh. If Sugishita ever dared to try that, I’m afraid not even Umemiya could save him from me,” Suo said with a light, almost playful tone.

But the glint in his eyes told a different story. It was sharp, cold, and far from a joke.

Sakura gulped, his throat suddenly dry. The statement stirred something warm and heavy in his gut. Suo rarely spoke with such intensity when it came to others, but when it came to him, it was different—almost terrifyingly so. It felt like Suo would burn the whole world down if it meant he could keep him.

“I need to attend another meeting now, so you and Nirei are outlining the rest of the plan,” Suo’s voice pulled him out of his retrieve.

“Yeah, leave it to us,” Nirei said, waving him goodbye without as much as raising his gaze from the screen.

“Oh, and one more thing, Sakura-kun,” Suo added, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. “When you find Togame, make sure to mock him. Thoroughly.”

Sakura blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” Suo said, his tone almost gleeful. “Mock the hell out of him for being stupid enough to get himself trapped in the first place. Let him know how humiliating it is to have me—Hayato Suo—send my family to rescue him. Do it with flair.”

Nirei snorted, clearly entertained. “You really hold grudges, don’t you?”

Suo leaned back, fingers steepled, his grin widening. “Oh, you have no idea.”

And with that, Suo left the office, the elegant click of his shoes echoing softly down the hallway.

Nirei looked up from his laptop, offering Sakura a warm smile. “You know, Sakura-chan, Suo’s hands are tied. As Oyabun, he can’t personally join an infiltration mission. But trust me, if he could, he’d be right there with you.”

Sakura returned his smile with a nod but his chest still tightened at the thought of not carrying out his first mission with Suo by his side. He gulped down the disappointment before shifting his focus back to the blueprints. Together, they delved into the finer details of the plan, ensuring everything was ready for the mission the next day.
———

That night, Suo barged into Sakura’s room again. Sakura startled, nearly knocking over his notes as he sat at the desk, still pouring over the blueprints and jotting down backup routes for plans B—or even C, if it came to that.

“Hey! Don’t fucking come any closer! I won’t do what—whatever the hell we did last night again,” Sakura shrieked, flailing around with his pen like it was some holy weapon capable of warding off Suo’s brazenness.

Suo huffed out a soft laugh at Sakura’s dramatic—though entirely justifiable, at least in Sakura’s mind—reaction. Surprisingly, he complied, staying by the door and leaning against the frame.

“Just wanted to check on you before the big day,” Suo said, crossing his arms over his chest. His slim-fit sweatshirt clung snugly to his forearms, and Sakura fought hard not to let his eyes linger too long.

“Nirei told me you weren’t as obnoxiously loud as usual after I left the office. Nervous?” Suo asked, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

“Absolutely not,” Sakura grumbled.

“I am though,” Suo said matter-of-factly, ignoring Sakura’s stubborn tone as he wandered closer, making himself at home by the desk. “Takiishi and his men are dangerous. There’s no denying that.”

“I’m not afraid of the dangers. You trust me with this mission and I won’t let you down,” Sakura said firmly. Though what tumbled out of his mouth next surprised even him. “I just don’t want to leave without you.”

Suo’s crimson eye widened, clearly caught off guard by the sudden confession. Then, his gaze softened, and he reached out, gently ruffling Sakura’s hair.

“You won’t,” Suo murmured, his tone unusually tender. “I’ll always come to you. You just need to wait.”

The statement was as simple as it sounded, but there was an undertone that made Sakura pause. It felt like Suo was referring to something else entirely—not just the mission. Something small snapped inside him, and Sakura tried to grasp at the end of the string but it slipped off his fingers when Suo’s hand squeezed his shoulder, grounding him.

“I have my role in this mission too,” Suo said, his tone shifting back to its usual neutral, business-like cadence. “While you’re sneaking in to rescue Togame, I’ll be paying a visit to my beloved brother Takiishi and doing my part to stall him. And here—”

Suo pulled a thin golden band from his pocket and held it out on his palm for Sakura to see. There was a hexagon blue stone on the ring, its color a deep, vivid hue, like a clear sky at dusk. Its smooth surface catches the light, adding a brilliant luster that highlights its captivating, almost mystical beauty.

“If things go to hell,” he said smoothly, his eye flicking up to meet Sakura’s, “press this stone for five seconds. Our reinforcements will come and pull both of you out.”

The ring really caught Sakura off guard, not for its practicality, but for the subtle weight of meaning it seemed to carry. It was just a tool—so why did it feel so important?

“Uh, isn’t this a bit—fancy for a distress signal?”

Suo chuckled warmly. “What can I say? I have standards. Even in emergencies. And I think it matches your eyes.”

Was Suo—flirting with him? There was no way a statement like that could be mistaken for something platonic—not even by the most oblivious dumbass on earth. Sakura didn’t know how to respond to that. Should he say something like Suo’s crimson and golden earrings today were beautiful and matched his eye too? He wasn’t used to being flirted with—if anything, it had never happened before. And certainly not by someone as impossibly pristine as Suo.

Taking the advantage of Sakura’s dumbfounded state, Suo took hold of his left hand and slid the ring onto his index finger with deliberate care, his thumb brushing over the sapphire and Sakura’s knuckles briefly before letting go of his hand.

Suo left the room without another word, leaving Sakura’s heart still pounding frantically against his chest, the golden band on his finger searing against his skin like a brand.

———

The first thing Sakura heard when he met Sugishita at their designated spot was his usual unwelcome opinion.

“Suo’s plans are always complicated,” Sugishita grumbled, arms crossed over his chest, avoiding eye contact. He was probably trying to keep the peace, or at least pretend to.

“It’s because you’re too dumb,” Sakura shot back, and that was all it took for Sugishita to turn on him, grabbing at his collar, both fists raised, ready to throw down.

But just as Sugishita’s punch was about to land, Suo’s car skidded to a halt in front of them. He rolled down the window just enough to shoot them an unimpressed glare.

“Save your fists for the enemy, dumbasses,” Suo said, waving them over to the car, or rather, under it.

The rain hammered against the roof of the car like a relentless war drum, drowning out almost every other sound. Sakura was pressed tightly against the undercarriage, feeling every jarring vibration as the vehicle rolled deeper into Takiishi’s stronghold. Even with the magnetic gloves and knee pads securing him to the car, his fingers clenched the cold, greasy metal as if his life depended on it.

His muscles screamed in protest, his legs burning from being stretched to their absolute limit to keep him flush against the underside of the car. And, as if the situation wasn’t already miserable enough, he was crammed into the tiny space with Sugishita—who was fucking massive.

The guy’s arm alone felt like it was taking up half the space, and his occasional shifts sent jolts through the already precarious setup.

“Could you not breathe so loud?” Sakura hissed under his breath, though the rain drowned out the complaint.

“We’re in a rainstorm under a car, you half ‘n half. You want me to stop breathing next?” Sugishita snapped back.

Sakura grit his teeth, swallowing the urge to retort. They’d been stuck like this for no more than five minutes, ever since Suo had picked them up at the designated drop-off point. It was the closest location to Takiishi’s stronghold without cameras, but even so, it felt like they’d been hanging on for an eternity.

He thought back to Suo’s calm, almost smug tone when he explained the plan earlier, as if riding under a moving car in the pouring rain was the most natural thing in the world. Of course, Suo wouldn’t be the one contorted into a human pretzel while dodging grease and road spray. That honor was entirely Sakura’s.

“We’ll carry out our plan tomorrow. I’m looking forward to the heavy rain,” Suo had said the moment they gathered in his office.

“How do you know it will rain tomorrow?” Sakura had asked, his skepticism clear.

“Back in my country, we could tell the weather from natural signs like cloud patterns and the sky hues,” Suo had replied, sounding like some mystical weather sage. He said it so matter-of-factly that Sakura almost believed him—almost.

“So, you didn’t delay the rescue mission just because you wanted to let Togame suffer for another day?” Sakura had asked, narrowing his eyes, half-joking but not entirely sure.

Suo had rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as if giving the question genuine consideration. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he’d said, “Ooh did I say that too?”

The thought of Suo—probably sitting dry and comfortable in the front seat, sipping on tea or complimenting himself for being a freaking correct weather forecaster—sparked a flicker of irritation that momentarily distracted him from the ache in his limbs.

The car hit a bump, jolting Sakura out of his thoughts. He slammed his head lightly against the metal, biting back a curse. Good thing was that Sugishita knocked his head even harder.

“Couldn’t we have done this on a dry day?” Sugishita muttered under his breath, his long hair which had tied into a ponytail dragging against the road.

Sakura shot him a flat look, unimpressed. “The rain will help cover our sights and sounds, so quit whining.”

The car came to a stop, the low hum of the engine fading into silence. Above him, he heard Suo open the door, his movements calm as if they were just another visitor. Moments later, footsteps approached, followed by the soft whoosh of an umbrella opening. A guard’s voice carried faintly through the rain as they escorted Suo further inside.

Both Sugishita and Sakura held their breath, muscles taut, as the other guard moved to the back of the car. The sound of the trunk opening sent a jolt of tension through Sakura, his mind racing. Don’t look under here. Just move on. The seconds dragged like hours before the trunk closed with a dull thud. The guard lingered for what felt like forever, but eventually, his footsteps receded into the rain-soaked distance.

Only when the parking spot had been quiet for a good five minutes did Sakura dare to release his iron grip on the undercarriage. He landed on the muddy ground with a soft thud, his knees bending to absorb the fall. The cold, wet earth seeped into every strand of his hair, but he didn’t care. They were finally in.

The rain masked their movements perfectly as Sakura and Suigishita slipped out from under the car, the relentless downpour swallowing any sound they made. The cold night air bit at his soaked face, but luckily, the suit he wore was water-resistant, with a heating layer inside. It didn’t make him warm, but it kept the chill just bearable enough to function in this miserable weather.

He followed closely behind Suigishita, darting behind a stack of crates in the parking yard. The shadows became their allies as they crouched low, blending into the darkened corners. At the entrance, the guards barely spared a glance in their direction, their attention entirely fixed on Suo’s arrival.

Takiishi’s stronghold loomed like a steel beast, its towering concrete walls stained with rust, cameras glowing red through the rain. The air was thick with the stench of oil and metal, a cold, suffocating reminder of its ruthless purpose. The thought of Suo living here during his earlier years made Sakura’s stomach churn. It didn’t feel like Suo had ever owned this place—it felt more like it had owned him, trapping him within its walls.

The rain poured relentlessly as Sakura and Suigishita crept around the side of the industrial fortress, their movements silent and effective. The dim light from the floodlights barely reached the farthest edges of the stronghold, leaving just enough darkness to shroud them. Their suits, slick with rain and mud, blended seamlessly with the industrial surroundings.

They reached the hidden backdoor—a rusted service entrance barely visible behind a stack of abandoned crates. Suigishita reached out, gripping the handle and testing it. With a faint groan, the door opened, its hinges surprisingly well-oiled.

"You're in," came Nirei’s calm voice through the earpieces, faintly crackling under the storm’s interference. "Now head straight down the service corridor to your left. Cameras ahead, but I’ve looped the feed for the next three minutes. Move fast."

Sakura nodded to Suigishita, and they slipped inside. The air inside was cold and heavy with the metallic tang of oil and damp concrete. The service corridor was narrow, lined with exposed pipes and overhead vents. Their footsteps were barely audible against the distant hum of machinery.

"Keep going," Nirei continued. "There’s a junction coming up. Take the right path—it’s a blind spot in the cameras. But be quick; a patrol passes through every fifteen minutes."

They reached the junction without incident, Suigishita taking the lead as they veered right. The corridor opened into a slightly wider hallway, lit by dim, flickering lights. It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional drip of water from the ceiling.

"Next hallway has cameras," Nirei warned. "Give me five seconds."

Sakura and Suigishita pressed themselves against the wall, hidden in the shadows. Sakura’s breathing was steady, but his heart thudded in anticipation.

"Okay, cameras looped. You’ve got sixty seconds before it resets. Go."

They moved in perfect sync, their footsteps light and their eyes scanning every corner. As they passed under the cameras, Sakura glanced up, half expecting the lens to swivel in their direction. But it stayed fixed, unmoving, just as Nirei promised.

The tension in his chest eased slightly. So far, the plan was working flawlessly.

"Approaching the central hallway," Nirei’s voice came again. "The living room is on your left. Keep to the shadows along the right wall and avoid the windows. I can’t loop all the cameras in there without drawing attention."

The hallway was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of security cameras that Nirei had disabled moments ago. Sakura and Suigishita moved swiftly, keeping their footsteps as light as whispers. The path to Togame’s cell wasn’t far now.

But as they approached a turn, muffled voices floated toward them from a partially ajar door. Sakura halted in his tracks, his breath catching as he recognized Suo’s voice.

Sakura pressed himself against the wall, peering through the narrow gap of the door. Inside, Suo sat across from Takiishi in a dimly lit office. Suo’s posture was relaxed, almost casual, but the sharpness in his eye betrayed his intent. Takiishi leaned back in his chair, his expression blank. Standing next to him was a man with black hair and a permanent grin, that should be Endo.

“There’s nothing wrong with a friendly visit, is there?” Suo’s calm, teasing tone carried through the heavy silence. “Although, I have to say, your taste is still atrocious as ever. Did you really trust your Kobun with your hair? What’s with that… masterpiece on your head?” He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What are you going for, exactly? Rooster tail or a bad Pride Month cosplay?”

Takiishi’s lips twitched ever so slightly, but his gaze remained steady on Suo. Across the room, Endo bristled, his hands clenching into fists.

“Hahhh?” Endo barked, stepping forward. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Suo didn’t flinch, his composure unshaken as he reclined further into his chair, one leg crossed over the other. “You heard me,” he replied smoothly, his smirk widening.

From his vantage point, Sakura could see exactly what Suo meant. Takiishi’s long hair was styled into what could only be described as an elaborate gradient of red and yellow, like the tail feathers of some exotic bird. To be fair, on someone as striking as Takiishi, it wasn’t entirely bad—but it was clear Suo’s comments were meant to dig under his skin. That was Suo’s way with people he despised: subtle, sharp jabs that cut deep.

“Sit down, Endo,” Takiishi ordered, his voice cold and clipped. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Endo growled but took a begrudging step back, glaring daggers at Suo. Sakura’s fists clenched at his sides, his body tensing. If Endo so much as reached toward Suo, Sakura would just have to jump in there to solve it, Togame rescue be damned.

Takiishi turned his attention back to Suo, his expression unreadable, though his tone carried a mocking edge. “Friendly, huh? That’s rich, coming from you, my dear kyodai. You’ve never done anything without a hidden agenda.”

“And you, my even dearer kyodai,” Suo shot back, his voice light but laced with venom, “never do anything without hurting people—or your so-called ‘ethics.’”

Takiishi’s lips quirked upward in a faint, humorless smile. “What’s the problem with that?”

Suo leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the arm of his chair. “Ever since the Master handed you District 2, you’ve made it your mission to run it into the ground. Bad deals, dirty work, collateral damage that could’ve been avoided—if you even bothered to care.”

“Isn’t that what yakuza are for?” Takiishi replied, almost bored. “You’re the one straying too far, Suo. Building communities? Running charities? Eliminating bad guys in the shadows? Fighting corrupt authorities?” His gaze sharpened, his voice dropping to a sneer. “Do all that and you can call yourself clean?”

The room fell into a heavy silence, but Suo’s smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened.

“Clean?” he echoed, his voice softer, more dangerous now. “I’ve never called myself clean. But at least I made my redemption.”

“Redemption? Aren’t you still playing the Master’s perfect little toy, Suo-chan?” Takiishi’s voice tilted on the last part as if mocking. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand before he added. “The obedient doll he conjures up whenever he’s bored and does whatever the hell he wants?”

Sakura’s heart dropped like a stone. His knees locked as the words sank in, each one sharp and cutting. Toy? Obedient doll? His mind raced, connecting dots he hadn’t dared to before—Suo’s unexplained absences, the full-covering outfits, the exhaustion etched on his face when he returned, the strain he always masked with a sly grin and his angry dismissal whenever Sakura asked about it.

“Careful, Takiishi,” Suo replied smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice. “Your imagination’s running wild.”

But Takiishi wasn’t done. “Come on, Suo. We both know you’re just a pawn to him. How does it feel to sell your soul bit by bit—all for a cause that’ll crush you in the end?”

Sakura’s fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Anger—no, something deeper, something harder to name tightened his throat as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. And he wanted no more than to burst into the room, to stop Takiishi from spewing any more venom about his boss.

But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

“Oi,” Suigishita hissed, grabbing Sakura’s arm. “The hell you doing? We don’t have time for this!”

Still, Sakura didn’t move, his eyes glued to Suo. How many times had he seen that calm, confident face? How many times had he relied on it, trusted it, admired it? Now, he felt like a fool for not seeing what lay beneath.

“Sakura, snap out of it!” Suigishita’s whisper was sharper this time, his hand yanking Sakura back into the shadows. “Whatever soap opera you’re watching, save it for later. We’ve got a job to finish.”

But Sakura’s legs refused to obey. The picture in his mind was too vivid, too horrifying. Suo, standing before the Master, enduring whatever it was Takiishi meant. Selling his soul, Takiishi had said. A pawn. A toy.

Finally, Suigishita groaned under his breath, glancing anxiously toward the hallway.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, then leaned closer to Sakura. “Listen, love-struck moron, if you want Suo to keep breathing long enough to explain himself, we need to move.”

That did it. The words jolted Sakura out of his daze, though the knot in his chest remained. He shot Suigishita a glare, but his voice was barely a whisper.

“I wasn’t love-struck,” he grumbled, his cheeks darkening.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,”Suigishita quipped, already dragging Sakura down the hall. “You can cry about your boss later. Right now, we’ve got a fucking hostage to save.”

As they hurried away, Sakura risked one last glance over his shoulder as the words lingered, carved deep into his thoughts. He didn’t know what they meant, not fully. But one thing was clear: Suo was carrying more than he let on.

As Sakura and Sugishita crept down the dimly lit hallway, they were nearly to the next junction when a series of heavy footsteps echoed behind them. They froze, heartbeats syncing with the rapid patter of the approaching guards. The tension was unbearable. Sugishita whispered, barely audible, "We’ve got company."

Sakura's eyes darted around, scanning the area for an escape or a fight. His gaze landed on the four guards emerging from a side hallway, all equipped with batons and sidearms. The guards didn’t seem to recognize them immediately, but that didn’t matter—they were too close. There was no way out without a confrontation.

Before Sugishita could react, Sakura was already in motion, pulling him toward the nearest corner, using the shadows as their cover.

“We move fast, no hesitation,” he whispered, just as the guards turned the corner.

The first guard barely had time to register their presence before Sakura’s fist connected with his throat, cutting off his breath and sending him collapsing to the floor. Sugishita followed swiftly, using his size to slam a second guard into the wall, incapacitating him with a sharp punch to the gut.

The remaining two guards recovered quickly, reaching for their batons. One swung at Sakura, but Sugishita was faster, grabbing the weapon mid-swing and twisting it from the guard’s hands. He struck the guard with the baton, taking him down with a quick series of blows to the ribs. Sakura reluctantly thanked him in his head and was already on the fourth guard, disarming him with brutal efficiency, and within moments, they were both standing victorious, the hallway now eerily quiet.

Sakura caught his breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The plan had been executed flawlessly, but they had lost precious minutes. He glanced at Sugishita. “That’s four down, but there could be more ahead.”

Sugishita grimaced, shaking his head. “No shit. It’s because you fucking waste our time back there. Suo always make me feel like I’m doing three jobs at once. Why do I have to babysit you and the guards?”

Sakura’s mind raced, running through the layout of the stronghold in his head. There was only one way forward. He looked up at the ceiling, spotting the ventilation pipes that ran along the upper beams of the corridor.

“Ventilation. It's our way through," he said, voice laced with urgency. "We’ll avoid more guards, and the pipes will get us closer to the cells without anyone seeing us."

Sugishita glanced up at the pipes, clearly skeptical. "You sure that’ll work?"

“Trust me on this one,” Sakura replied confidently. He used to be a rat sneaking around in District 5 after all.

Sakura carefully surveyed the vent above, realizing that with his shorter reach, he wouldn’t be able to unhinge the grate on his own. He shot a quick glance at Sugishita, who was already crouching, arms crossed, looking none too pleased.

“You’re the perfect height for this,” Sakura said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sugishita raised an eyebrow, his lips tightening. “I’m not your stepping stool.”

Sakura ignored the grumbling and pointed up at the grate. “I need a ladder, and you’re the closest thing to one. Just let me climb up and get the damn vent open.”

Sugishita sighed dramatically, but before he could protest further, Sakura was already springing into action, positioning himself in front of Sugishita. With a quick hop, he placed his foot on Sugishita’s knee and boosted himself up.

“Oi, hold still, will ya?” Sugishita grumbled, clearly not thrilled, but he steadied himself for Sakura’s awkward climb.

“I’ll tell Umemiya-san how awesome you’re today,” Sakura said with a grin, balancing on Sugishita’s shoulders. He stretched up, fingers brushing the vent grate. With a sharp tug, he managed to pull it loose.

Sugishita grunted as he squatted down, “He doesn’t need your fucking saying to know that.”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sakura shot back at him and tossed the vent grate aside. He swiftly pulled himself up into the vent shaft. He turned back to help Sugishita.

Sugishita shot him a dirty look but crouched, positioning himself below the opening.

“I hope you fucking fit inside.” Sakura reached down, giving him a hand.

With a final grunt, Sugishita jumped and grasped the pipe opening with Sakura’s help to pull himself up, his wide frame squeezing into the narrow pipe with some effort.

Once inside, they both began crawling down the tight shaft, their movements slow but steady. The pipe was narrow, and every twist and turn made them feel like they were inching closer to being stuck, but with Nirei’s voice calmly guiding them through their earpieces, the tension eased.

“You’re on the right track,” Nirei’s voice came through their earpieces. “Go straight, then take a sharp right at the next junction. The cells are just a few rooms ahead.”

The rain and thunders allowed them to communicate in hushed tone inside the pipes, and it mainly was Sugishita struggling with his huge form.

“Be quick,” Sakura urged as he crawled forward with ease.

Sugishita’s response was muffled from behind him, but he didn’t sound like he was in too much pain. “Shut up. I’m trying.”

The ventilation pipes and the sounds of heavy rainfall and thunders provided the perfect cover. They reached their destination in about seven minutes, and Sakura couldn’t tell if Suo was able to stay there and stall Takiishi much longer with how tense the atmosphere had been turning. They got to be quick.

“You’ve got ten minutes max to get Togame out and reach the backdoor before the cameras reset and the backdoor get locked,” Nirei informed. Even through the earpiece Sakura could hear the urgency in his voice.

Sakura and Sugishita dropped silently from the pipe entrance into a shadowed corridor. Pressing against the wall, Sakura peered around the corner and spotted three guards lingering near a single occupied cell. That had to be Togame’s.

“The cell lock is eye-scanning,” Sakura murmured, his voice low. “You distract the guards. At least one will stay back. I’ll take him out and use his eye for the scan.”

To Sakura’s surprise, Sugishita didn’t question the plan. Instead, he gave a sharp nod and went straight into action. He kicked a stray piece of debris across the floor, sending it clattering noisily in the opposite direction of the cell. Just as expected, two of the guards turned toward the noise and went to investigate. Without hesitation, Sugishita stepped out of the shadows and darted further down the hallway, loud enough to draw their attention entirely.

Sakura sprang into action without hesitation, dashing toward the remaining guard near the cell. He aimed a fast, jarring punch at the man’s temple, hoping to end the fight quickly. But this wasn’t some rookie. The guard raised his forearm in a precise block, deflecting the blow with practiced ease. Typical of Takiishi’s men—they weren’t just muscle; they were skilled and dangerous.

The guard wasted no time, withdrawing a knife from his waistband and thrusting it toward Sakura’s abdomen in one swift motion. But Sakura wasn’t green either. He’d sparred with Suo enough times to anticipate moves like this. He pivoted to the side, dodging the strike, and used the guard’s forward momentum to sweep his legs out in a clean arc, sending him crashing to the ground.

Even in the fall, the guard didn’t let up, managing to swipe his knife across Sakura’s thigh. A sharp sting bloomed where the blade grazed him, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins dulled the pain to a mere irritation. Gritting his teeth, Sakura kicked the weapon out of the guard’s hand and followed it with a brutal punch to the man’s nose, knocking him out cold.

Sakura dragged the unconscious guard toward the scanner and yanked his eyelid open, grimacing at the awkwardness of the task. The lock beeped, followed by a faint click. Satisfied, he let the guard’s limp body drop to the ground with a dull thud, pushing him aside as he slid the heavy cell door open.

Inside, a man sat slumped on the floor, his dull green eyes flickering up to meet Sakura’s. He was hunched forward, his broad shoulders sagging, and his form bore all the signs of having been through hell. Blood smeared across his tattered clothes, his grimy shoulder-length hair matted with more dried blood and dirt.

Even under the grime and the bruises, Sakura couldn’t ignore the man’s striking features—sharp green eyes, a straight nose, and a jawline that radiated strength. He was a big guy, built like a fighter, but now he looked like a caged animal, chained to a post with a thick metal collar. The setup made him look like some big, bad dog and Sakura almost snorted at Takiishi’s melodramatic sense of imprisonment.

After a moment of taking in who had entered the cell, Togame’s dazed eyes sparked faintly, widening in surprise. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, despite the exhaustion evident on his face. “Well, well. Out of everyone, you’re the one who came to save me? How poetic.”

Remembering Suo’s earlier instructions, Sakura seized the moment to mock the hell out of Togame. “Didn’t expect someone from Hayato’s family to save your sorry ass, huh?”

There, mission accomplished. Suo would be so proud of him.

Togame wheezed out a sharp laugh, his voice raspy but amused. “Of course Eyepatch would take you in as one of his family, wouldn’t he? Should’ve known he would make a bold move like this so soon.”

Sakura had a nagging feeling that Togame wasn’t just referring to the fact that some random Hayato yakuza member came and rescued him but hinted at something deeper. Sakura shove it aside. For one, they didn’t have time for freaking introduction and chitchat right now, and two, he didn’t like talking with strangers—maybe except Suo. Suo always got a pass.

“Shut up and let me find the key for your damn collar,” Sakura snapped, heading back toward the unconscious guard outside to see if he got the keys.

“Only Takiishi has the keys,” Togame said with a dry laugh.

Sakura glanced at the time. Five minutes left. His jaw tightened as he crouched next to Togame, pulling a lock-picking pin from his pocket. He worked on the lock with practiced focus, his hands trembling slightly.

Calm the hell down, Sakura. You’ve done this a thousand times before. He steadied his breathing. Back in District 5, he’d been forced to take on odd, often unsavory jobs just to scrape by. He’d hated it then, but now? That survival skill turned out absolutely handy. Picking locks wasn’t glamorous, but at least it got the job done.

The lock clicked open, and both Togame and Sakura let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Sakura straightened to stand, but Togame yanked at his arm.

“I can’t walk on my own. They hit my legs pretty hard,” Togame said. His usual smirk was gone, and Sakura believed him.

“Shit!” Sakura cursed under his breath but quickly bent down to loop his arms around Togame’s middle, pulling him up despite his own frustration.

They wouldn’t make it out in time like this. Soon all the cameras would be back to normal, and the guards, along with Takiishi and Endo, would be on them. Sakura rubbed his fingers over the blue sapphire ring that Suo had given him, his mind racing. He was seriously considering using it—his last resort. If he pressed the ring now, reinforcements would arrive, but that would trigger a full-blown battle, and the stakes would skyrocket, putting everything and everyone in danger. Sakura didn’t want that. He didn’t want to drag Suo or anyone else into a war this soon.

As they made their way toward the cell entrance, the guard next to it stirred, his eyes fluttering open. His gaze landed on them, and something snapped in Sakura. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled his gun from his waistband, pointing it straight at the man on the floor.

“Hey, you don’t need to—“ Togame started, his voice sounding almost alarmed.

Sakura cut him off, bending down to press the barrel of the gun to the guard’s temple.

“There’s a backdoor in this cell area. Tell me the fucking code or I’ll blow your brain out,” Sakura said, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, but his voice turned cold as steel—dead serious about his threat.

The guard quickly rattled off the code in a panic, his voice trembling. Sakura gave him no second thought, bringing the back of his gun down hard against the man’s head, knocking him out cold for good measure.

Without a word, he shifted his focus back to Togame, hauling him forward as they moved toward the exit. Sakura had studied the blueprints meticulously beforehand, and while Nirei didn't have access to this particular backdoor, Sakura had made sure to memorize all possible exits. He knew it would be essential to have multiple options in case things went sideways.

“Back then—” Togame began. Damn, the man sure had a fondness for small talk. “You really planned to shoot him?”

Sakura, despite the exhaustion of dragging half of Togame's weight and the steadily worsening pain from his injured leg, shot him a quick glance. “Back then,” he paused to emphasize, “the gun wasn’t loaded.”

He left it at that. Togame’s eyes widened slightly before he gave out a wholehearted laugh.

“You know, I always thought Suo had terrible taste in everything. And if you’re his type, you should be a pain in the ass,” Togame chuckled. “But now I’m starting to see the appeal. You’re very charming.”

“I’m not his type—” Sakura snapped, his tone unexpectedly bashful, only to be cut off by Sugishita suddenly running up beside them. Well, Sakura had almost forgotten about this guy.

“Charming? Him?” Sugishita chimed in with a mocking laugh, his voice sharp. “You sure they didn’t beat your brain half dead?”

He joined the conversation in the blink of an eye. Normally, Sugishita wasn’t the talkative type, and just as socially inept as Sakura, but when it came to trash-talking Sakura, no one could top him.

“Fuck off,” Sakura growled.

Sugishita flung Togame’s other arm over his shoulders and help hauling him towards the exit. “You’re not dragging him out alone, aren’t you? He looks heavier than your brain—“

His sentence was cut off as there were quick footsteps approaching them from close behind. Before both Sugishita and Sakura could see the guard coming to them and react, Togame had used his hold on both of their shoulders as his pillars to bend his upper body forward and kicked one of his legs backwards in a clean arch. His foot hit the guard’s chin in an impossibly precise motion and knocked him out cold immediately. Jo Togame had noticed the guard when they were busy bickering, and the guy—

“You fucking said your legs were no use,” Sakura’s accusation took on a high note of his voice. Feeling utterly betrayed, he let go of his hold of Togame right away.

"Hehe, just wanted to mess with Suo’s person for a bit. I really needed some entertainment after all those days in prison," Togame said, his voice light with amusement. "Suo could've sent you sooner, but I knew he wanted to make me wait. Little shit," he rolled his eyes, but his tone held no malice.

Sakura wondered if Suo and Togame were actually close friends, albeit in a weirdly mocking sort of way.

“We don’t have time for this shit, dumbass,” Sakura snapped as the three of them hurried towards the backdoor. “Suo should be coming back to his car in no time. We need to get there first and be in position so he can drive us off as soon as possible.”

“Huh? Suo’s coming here with you too?” Togame asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “Normally he wouldn’t show up directly in this kind of mission. It’d be too risky. I think Suo must be losing his mind right now. Wonder if he regrets letting you out of his sight."

Sakura's face heated at the implication. He didn’t want to think about what Suo might feel for him at this moment—if he felt anything at all.

Focusing, he punched in the code on the monitor as they reached the backdoor. Outside, the rain continued to pour down, relentless and cold. They wasted no time, running towards the parking area with urgency. Hopefully, Nirei was still managing to loop all the cameras. They had a chance, but they couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

As they neared the gates, the two guards from earlier were still posted, but fortunately, their attention was elsewhere. They weren’t looking toward Suo’s car. Sakura and Sugishita quickly opened the back trunk and motioned for Togame to get inside. Once he was in, they crawled under the car and pressed themselves flat against the undercarriage, trying to keep as still and quiet as possible.

Every second stretched into an eternity before Suo finally emerged as planned, flanked by his guards. The moment he slid into the car, the engine rumbled to life, and without hesitation, he drove them out of Takiishi’s stronghold. The tension that had been gnawing at Sakura’s nerves began to dissipate, but only to be replaced by thousands of questions in his head.

Suo’s deep voice through the earpieces snapped Sakura out of his thoughts. It was as cold as always, but there was an undertone of worry that Sakura could pick up. “Sakura, did you get hurt? I saw blood stains on the ground.”

Sakura shivered as the raindrops on the road seeped under his suit, pressing against the cut in his leg.

“It was Togame’s,” Sakura lied, not wanting to worry Suo more than necessary. It was just a shallow cut. Hopefully. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Good,” Suo chuckled.

Through Suo’s earpieces, Sakura could hear Togame throwing a string of profanities at him, likely crawling from the back trunk toward the back seats. When they were finally in a safe area, Suo stopped the car so Sugishita and Sakura could get into the seats.

Togame, however, had already claimed the front seat next to Suo.

“The back trunk? This is how you treat your guests, Eyepatch?” Togame exclaimed, pouting exaggeratedly.

Sakura saw Suo’s smirk. “You’re not my guest. This is Sakura’s mission.”

“Ooohhh,” Togame drawled with amusement. “Then should I sit next to him to show my deep gratitude? He looks much prettier up close.”

Suo’s smile remained, but Sakura could practically see a vein pop out on his forehead. “Keep your mouth shut for a while, can’t you? Or should I just throw you out of the car in the middle of nowhere? Or should I drive you back to Takiishi?”

That did the trick. Togame crossed his arms, huffing. “Fine.”

It took about an hour of driving before they reached Tomiyama’s buildings. Suo was actually an exceptional driver—maintaining full speed while keeping his posture effortlessly relaxed. Sakura tried his best not to sound like a pervert, but Suo’s long elegant fingers wrapping around the steering wheel made his face heat up for some reason. Maybe they should roll down the windows for some fresh windy air.

Along the way, his voicemail notifications kept pinging, each one more persistent than the last. It was likely Takiishi realizing Togame had gone missing and now demanding answers, suspecting Suo’s involvement. Sakura could feel the weight of the situation. Something big was about to unfold after this high-stakes mission—it was as if Suo had just raised a war flag in Takiishi’s direction.

When they arrived, Tomiyama was already waiting outside. When he saw Togame get out of the car, he practically tossed his umbrella aside and rushed over, jumping into the taller man's arms and clinging to him like a koala. Sakura watched as Togame grimaced from the tight hug, likely due to the fresh injuries he had, but still, Togame wrapped his large arms around Tomiyama’s smaller form in return.

Suo also got out of the car and approached them. He said something with his usual calm expression, but Tomiyama blinked rapidly in response. Togame suddenly seemed apologetic, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. His lips formed the words instinctively "I'm sorry", before he glanced at Sakura in the car, giving a small nod and a faint smile.

“You know,” Sugishita’s voice cut through the air, making Sakura startle slightly. He’d been too focused on trying to guess what kind of conversation Suo and the others were having—probably about him.

“What?” Sakura snapped, not bothering to look at Sugishita.

“Sorry for calling you a love-struck moron earlier,” Sugishita said, his voice unexpectedly full of amusement.

Sakura turned to glance at him, eyes widening. Sugishita was smiling. No, wait—he was smirking. Still, it was a far cry from his usual range of blank stares and scowls.

“You’re sorry for that?”

“I figured out Suo’s the love-struck one,” Sugishita said with a shrug. “He only checked on your well-being after the mission.”

“And now you're jealous?”

“No, I’m just surprised you two are both so dumb.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Sakura could get an answer, Suo climbed back into the car. Sugishita didn’t even acknowledge him, as if their conversation had never happened.

“Sakura-kun, you shouldn’t have lied to me about your injury,” Suo said, driving off the curb with his usual playful yet sharp tone. “Or I need to dig my fingers into your wound to remind you that it needs attention?”

Sugishita turned to look at Sakura, one eyebrow raised as he tilted his head toward Suo. The gesture clearly said, You get what I mean now?

Sakura sputtered. “No I—I’m sorry, boss.”

After that, they drove home in silence. Sakura’s mind buzzed with fragmented thoughts, questions, and pieces of information that didn’t quite add up. He knew he’d get his answers eventually, but only when it was just him and Suo, and only if Suo was willing to give them.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Sakura was the one who couldn’t find his time to talk with Suo.

The wound on his thigh—despite Sugishita’s best efforts to disinfect and bandage it with the limited supplies in the car’s first aid kit under Suo’s urgent orders—continued to bleed. The cut deeper than Sakura had initially thought, leaving him lightheaded.

“Strange. Why are you two so quiet?” Suo asked, his eye never leaving the road as he sped down another winding forest path. “Sugishita, check on Sakura.”

Sugishita turned from the window, his gaze landing on Sakura—who was feeling like fainting any moment, his breaths uneven. How long had they been driving since leaving Tomiyama’s? An hour? More? Suo had been driving like a man possessed the moment he learned about Sakura’s injury, but there had to be a limit to how fast one could push a car, right? And no matter how fast he drove, the distance from District 3 to District 1 wasn’t something they could just cut down at will.

Due to the nature of their job, a hospital visit was out of the question. They couldn’t risk the exposure, not for this kind of wound. And staying at Tomiyama’s place wasn’t an option either—especially not after just rescuing Togame from Takiishi’s grip. The mission had been successful, but lingering around Tomiyama’s after such a high-stakes situation would be asking for trouble.

They couldn’t afford to leave Suo’s mansion unattended either. With Takiishi's looming threat, the last thing they needed was for Suo's territory to be vulnerable. Staying on the move, getting Sakura patched up as quickly as possible, and tightening security were the only priorities in Suo’s mind now.

Sakura had been too careless about what he’d brushed off as no big deal. Apparently, he was paying for it now.

“Shit,” Sugishita cursed under his breath. For someone who claimed to hate Sakura’s guts, he sounded genuinely worried.

“You look like shit,” he muttered, his usual irritation laced with something heavier—concern. His hands pressed against the blood-soaked bandages, trying to keep the wound from bleeding out any further. “The bandages can’t hold all this, Suo-san.”

Suo tilted the rearview mirror just enough to get a clear look at Sakura’s condition. The second his eye landed on the dark stain spreading across Sakura’s pants, his grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw clenching so hard it must ache.

Then, without a word, he floored the gas.

The tires screeched against the pavement as the car surged forward, tearing through the streets at a reckless speed. Traffic laws be damned—Suo didn’t look like he gave a single shit at this point.

Sugishita, wrapping another layer of bandages around Sakura’s thigh with quick but steady hands, grumbled, “You’re gonna get us killed before his wound does, Suo-san.”

“Shut up,” Suo snapped, his sharp eye locked on the road, muscles coiled with tension.

By the time they reached the mansion gates, the car screeched to a halt. Suo was already throwing the door open before the engine had fully settled.

Sakura reached for the handle, his movements sluggish, and pushed the door open. The moment his feet touched the ground, his balance wavered—his legs buckling beneath him. Before he could hit the gravel, strong arms caught him, holding him upright with a firm grip.

His face ended up pressed against the curve of Suo’s neck. Even through the haze of blood loss and exhaustion, Sakura caught the familiar scent clinging to him—cologne, black tea, something distinctly Suo. He smelled very nice. And it was comforting.

“Sugishita, carry him to the infirmary,” Suo ordered, his hand squeezing Sakura’s shoulder briefly one last time before handing Sakura over to Sugishita.

“Carry—” Sakura mumbled, confused and still dazed.

Before he could finish his sentence, Sugishita had already hoisted him effortlessly onto his shoulders, his grip firm as he carried him away. The sudden movement made Sakura blink in surprise, but he was too weak to protest further.

From a distance, Sakura could hear Suo’s voice gave out orders to the guards.

"Triple the security around the perimeter," Suo’s tone was serious and commanding. All traces of his usual teasing or mirth were gone. "Takiishi will make a move soon. I don’t want a single rat slipping through."

Tsugeura was already waiting at the infirmary entrance. With his massive build and loudmouth attitude, anyone could mistake him as a gym trainer than a private doctor. But after some occasions that Sakura got hurt during training or even fighting with Sugishita, he knew Tsugeura was a very skilled one. The guy had steady hands, sharp instincts, and a medical mind sharper than most. Sakura knew he was in good hands. He’d be back on his feet in no time.

Tsugeura was wearing his usual expression—loud, grinning, and way too enthusiastic for someone about to stitch up a wound.

"Oho! You again, kid? Suigishita wouldn’t go this far to cut you up this time, would he?" Tsugeura teased, rolling up his sleeves like he was about to lift weights rather than stitch a wound.

“Oh, I wish,” Sugishita muttered before unceremoniously dumping Sakura onto the bed.

Sakura hissed, pain jolting up his thigh. “Asshole—”

Sugishita only smirked. “You’ll live.”

The infection hit hard, searing through his thigh like fire, but it was the weight in his mind that truly dragged him under. The unanswered questions, the gnawing uncertainty, the tangled mess of thoughts he couldn't unravel—it all pressed down on him, heavier than any wound. His body, already weakened from blood loss and strain, simply gave in.

Sakura drifted in a haze of warmth and quiet touches, his fever pulling him in and out of sleep. The world beyond his closed eyelids felt distant, but something—someone—kept him tethered.

Cool fingers brushed against his forehead, smoothing back his hair with a tenderness that made the weight in his chest ease. A hand lingered on his, firm yet gentle, its warmth spreading through his skin like an anchor. Every now and then, the faintest pressure traced his knuckles, as if someone was idly running their thumb over them.

Through his fevered state, he caught glimpses—long red hair, a familiar silhouette, hands that were elegant and careful in their touch. Suo.

Even half-lost in sleep, the thought brought comfort. It was almost amusing how vividly his mind conjured him—so lifelike in his quiet presence, the warmth of his touch never fading.

Suo was too busy for something like this. There was no way a man like him—always moving, always scheming—would waste his time sitting at his bedside over a simple fever. And yet…

Sakura’s fingers twitched, instinctively seeking out the warmth in his palm. It was still there. Solid. Steady. He tightened his grip around it. Maybe it didn’t matter if this was a dream or not. Right now, he just needed to talk to Suo.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say—questions that clawed at his mind, thoughts left tangled in fevered haze. But when his eyes finally fluttered open, and he found Suo still beside him, his expression caught between worry and relief when he saw Sakura finally waking up, what slipped past Sakura’s lips was—

“Aren’t you proud of me? I fucking rescued Togame.”

His voice was rough, cracking from disuse. How long had he been asleep? A day? Two? The sky beyond the window was an inky black, offering no answers.

Suo blinked, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “What?”

Sakura had seen Suo wear many expressions—amusement, judgement, calculation—but genuine surprise? That was rare. And somehow, Sakura always had a knack of bringing it out of him.

“You heard me,” Sakura muttered, both defiant and embarrassed. There were far more important things to discuss, but since he’d already blurted it out, there was no taking it back.

Suo’s lips curled into a smirk. “Are you a dog or something? You want a treat for playing fetch?”

“What if I am?” Sakura shot back, attempting to sit up despite the dull throb in his head. His vision swam for a moment, but he pushed through. “That was my first mission, and I pulled it off beautifully. At least tell me I did a good job.” He tried to make it sound like a demand, but there was a raw edge to his voice that betrayed his bravado. After all, he only needed approval for what he had done—Suo’s approval.

Suo’s smirk faded to be replaced by a gentle smile.

“Well done, Sakura-kun.” His gaze softened before he reached out, fingers threading through Sakura’s hair softly. “I was told about your resourcefulness and quick thinking. I knew I wouldn’t regret trusting you with such a high-stakes mission.”

Sakura stilled under the touch, warmth spreading in his chest, threatening to make him feel something he wasn’t ready to name. But then he frowned.

“But you got upset when I got hurt?”

Suo’s fingers lingered in his hair for a beat longer before he withdrew, exhaling a quiet sigh. “I got upset because I let you stay hurt for too long.”

There were dark circle under his eye—faint, but undeniable. Of course. Suo had been handling the aftermath of the mission while Sakura had been out cold, dreaming of his touch like some fool. And still, he had found time to sit here. To worry about him.

Sakura swallowed against the tightness in his throat, a strange ache curling in his chest, heavy and unshakable. “It’s nothing,” he murmured, his voice quieter this time. “Just a fever. It’ll pass.”

But even as he spoke, his fingers unconsciously curled tighter around the sheets, his body betraying the lie.

Suo didn’t speak, but his gaze stayed locked onto him, unwavering, waiting for the words Sakura hadn’t yet said.

Sakura hesitated before adding, “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been bedridden like this. Sometimes my body just gives out when my mind gets…stumped.”

Suo’s brows drew together slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Stumped?”

Sakura let out a quiet breath, gaze dropping to his lap. “It’s when there’s too much in my head that I can’t solve—thoughts pressing in from all sides, stretching something inside me too thin. Like a rope about to snap. But before it does, my body gives out first. Maybe it’s a way to protect itself.”

The words sat between them, unspoken for too long. Sakura had never put it into words before—never had anyone ask, let alone listen.

But Suo listened. Then, in a softer tone, he asked, “What’s on your mind now?”

Sakura had expected a joke, some teasing remark to push the conversation aside. But Suo wasn’t brushing him off—he was asking.

How could Sakura ask this? The Master was a sensitive subject, one Suo had always kept hidden. What if Suo felt betrayed if he knew Sakura had caught a glimpse of his relationship with the man? His longing for Suo's trust battled with his fear of pushing him too far. After all, he was just his bodyguard. But there had to be something about him that made Suo choose him as his Kobun, right? Sakura was nothing but stubborn, so he gave himself the privilege to have this.

“I didn’t mean to…eavesdrop,” he started hesitantly, “but I caught part of your conversation with Takiishi about the Master during the mission.”

The shift in Suo was instant.

At the mere mention of that man, his entire body went rigid, his breath hitching for the briefest moment before he tore his hand away from Sakura’s—like he had touched an open flame. The sudden loss of warmth sent a sharp ache through Sakura’s chest. Without a word, Suo rose abruptly and turned away, deliberately hiding his face. His shoulders trembled—small, almost imperceptible, but there. And in that tremor, Sakura couldn’t tell if it was anger, hatred, or something far worse.

"You shouldn't have overheard, Sakura. And it's not your concern," Suo said, his voice cold as ice. But it was the kind of ice that was cracking under the pressure of violent, surging water beneath—thin, fragile, and threatening to shatter. "I told you not to mention him."

Sakura swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew it would turn out like this—Suo shutting him out. If he kept pushing, if he pried too much, everything between them could vanish in an instant, slipping through his fingers like smoke. Suo had told him before—never question him. Never dig too deep. And Sakura had always obeyed Suo’s orders, always followed him without hesitation. But he didn’t want to be just a loyal subordinate to Suo. That wasn’t enough. He longed for the closeness he could have as Suo’s companion.

“I know.” Sakura forced the words out. His hands fidgeted in his lap, restless and unsure. And he felt his own eyes blinking too rapidly, like a child bracing for reprimand. “I know it’s not my business. But I want your trust. Not just in missions, but in this too.”

His breath wavered, and for a moment, he felt like he was teetering on the edge of something terrifying, something he couldn’t take back.

“I just—I just care about you, Suo.”

Sakura had never cared deeply for anyone before—except for Kotoha. She had been his only friend for half a decade, the one constant in his life. But with Suo, it was different.

They had only known each other for a few months, and most of that time had been spent jumping into each other’s throats. Yet, despite their constant bickering, Suo had always been—overprotective. More so than with anyone else in Hayato-gumi. He trusted Sakura in a way that set him apart, enough to entrust him with an important mission, enough to even consider making him his Kobun. That part still made Sakura’s head spin—he didn’t understand why, didn’t know what he had done to earn that level of faith from a man like Suo.

Most people saw Sakura as abrasive, difficult, even inhuman at times. He was reckless, brash, too sharp-edged to fit anywhere neatly. But deep down, he longed for something he could never quite put into words. To be someone’s important person. To matter. And that longing—no matter how much he tried to ignore it—was sometimes overwhelming.

But at the end of the day, feelings were meant to be reciprocated. If Suo cared for him, then he would care for Suo in return. It was that simple. Or at least, it should have been.

Suo snapped his head around so fast that Sakura nearly flinched. His single crimson eye was blown wide, his lips parted as if words had slipped from his grasp before they could form. And in that moment, Sakura saw it.

Fear.

Not the fleeting kind that made a man wary, not the sharp-edged caution that kept Suo untouchable. No, this was something deeper. Something raw, buried beneath layers of defiance and tightly held control. A fear that must have been sitting in Suo’s chest for years, waiting for the wrong moment to be exposed.

And it wasn’t fear of the Master himself, Sakura realized with a sick twist in his gut. It was fear of what might happen if Sakura knew.

It flickered behind Suo’s eye before his expression smoothed over into cold indifference. But now, Sakura knew to look past the mask.

“A lot of people care about me, Sakura-kun,” Suo said, his head tilting slightly, eye sharp as if assessing him. “But I don’t go around broadcasting my private life, do I?”

"But you don’t go around ordering just anyone to get off for you to watch in their private room either, do you?" Sakura burst out. He knew he was being blunt—maybe even reckless—but it was the only card he had left to play. "Shouldn’t that make me exclusive?"

"Fuck—" Suo cursed under his breath, then let out a long, suffering sigh. He yanked the chair closer and sank back into it, elbows braced against his knees as he pressed his forehead into his hands, rubbing his temples. "Now you're using that against me? I knew you’d be a handful the moment I met you."

“Did you regret it though?” Sakura huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance.

“Regret what?” Suo let out a humored laugh behind his hands. “Watching you jerk off? Absolutely not. Taking you in? I’m considering it.”

Sakura reached out and grabbed Suo’s black shirt collar—the fabric likely cost more than everything he owned, but he never had enough money to pay for what Suo had bought him anyway. He yanked Suo’s face closer, his own expression a mix of a glare and a smirk. Suo was being his usual mean jerk self, and Sakura couldn’t help but enjoy their banter, even in moments like this. The stitches in his thigh shot a sharp, burning pain through his body at the abrupt movement, but he didn’t give a fuck about it.

“You little shit. Stop messing around,” Sakura growled, his grip tightening on Suo’s collar. “From the look of it, I’m your only Kobun. There’s no one before me. Shouldn’t you tell me some of your story, too? I thought it’d help strengthen our bond.”

Suo was also smirking down at him. “First, you aren’t my Kobun yet, so don’t get ahead of yourself. Second, if you really care about me, you’d respect what I don’t want you to know. You’re giving me a damn migraine.”

“You’re going to take revenge on the Master, right?” Sakura shot back, his voice no less fiery. “Isn’t this the perfect time for me to know who we’re really dealing with?”

Suo closed his eye, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. He swatted Sakura’s hand off his collar as though it were a bothersome fly, his expression shifting to something unreadable. With a sharp click of his tongue, he settled back into his seat, crossing his legs with calculated calm. His hands intertwined neatly on his knees, and he looked at Sakura with an almost patronizing air, as if preparing to lecture a child.

“Fine,” Suo said, his voice a little too smooth, like he was indulging a child’s tantrum. He cleared his throat as if to gather his thoughts, the tension in the room thickening.

Sakura, despite the pain in his body, leaned in slightly, every muscle in his being locked onto Suo’s words. There was something in the air that made him forget his own discomfort, his focus narrowing to nothing but Suo, waiting for him to speak.

“When I was twelve, my family had a trip to Japan. Just me, my mama, and my papa. It should’ve been a wonderful memory, shouldn’t it?” Suo’s voice faltered slightly, but he quickly masked it, his lips twitching into a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eye. The expression was hollow, like it was forced. Then his gaze turned distant, as if he were seeing something far beyond the room, lost in the past. “We got into a car accident. Can you guess what’s next?”

Sakura let out an involuntary gasp. His chest tightened at the words, the coldness in Suo's voice chilling him to the bone. He wasn’t ready for this—hadn’t expected the story to unfold like this, especially with how Suo was recounting his parents’ story with such a detached, empty expression. “Suo, I’m sorry. I—”

Suo waved a hand dismissively, cutting him off. “It isn’t even the worst part.” His voice was flat, the words cutting through the air like a blade. “My parents didn’t die from the accident. No, they were left to die in the hospital. The doctors said they had a bad prognosis, and they just focused on saving me—even when they were right there, breathing next to my bed.” He let out a dry chuckle that held no humor, his face twisting for a brief moment into something darker. Then, just as quickly, he shrugged. "Funny, huh?"

The lack of emotion in Suo’s tone hit Sakura harder than anything he could have expected. It wasn’t the disbelief of a child lost in trauma, but the weary acceptance of someone who had lived too long with the burden of a broken past. The words hung in the air, suffocating.

“No—it’s not—“ Sakura muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s not funny at all, you jerk.”

Suo’s expression remained as emotionless as ever, but Sakura could see the tremble in his eye, the one that betrayed him despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. The flicker of vulnerability was almost too brief to catch—his crimson eye, a deep well of sorrow, brimming with tears that threatened to spill. Suo bowed his head, hiding his face under his hand just in time for Sakura to see a single drop slip from the corner of his eye, tracing down his pale skin. Then Suo let out a laugh, a sound that was eerily hollow, almost hysterical.

“Oh yes, what was really funny was that the authorities couldn’t contact my relatives in China at all. What could I do? Screaming at them? Fighting them?” Suo paused, a bitter edge to his words. “Well, I did. But I was just a twelve-year-old with bare hands.”

He looked up at Sakura then, his gaze sharp, burning with something murderous, as if the very memory of that helpless rage had reignited it within him. The manic laughter that followed sent a chill through Sakura’s spine.

Sakura’s stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat as his mind raced to comprehend what he was witnessing. Suo was cruel, manipulative, controlling, and demanding—everything that screamed danger, everything that warned you to not to mess with. But for the first time, Sakura saw how truly terrifying Suo could be, how the weight of his past had shaped him into something far darker than he let on.

Sakura didn’t feel scared, though. There was no instinct to run, no desire to flee from the madness in Suo’s eye. Instead, something in him wanted to reach out, to pull Suo back from the edge, to soothe the raging storm inside of him. He wanted to hold him, make him feel calm again.

But before he could touch him, Suo’s laughter died abruptly, leaving the air heavy with silence. The change in the atmosphere was sudden, as if a switch had been flipped, and Sakura hesitated, his hand still hovering in the air.

“Then the Master came into the picture. Convenient for him, isn’t it? A boy stranded in a foreign country, and he swooped in like some kind of savior. Took me in under the guise of adoption but actually imprisoned me in the industrial site that’s now Takiishi’s stronghold.” Suo said, a gleam of disgust flashing in his eye.

That must have been why Suo knew every corner of that place—he had memorized it by heart. And each time he returned to meet Takiishi, it must have been nothing short of a nightmare to him.

Suo continued, but this time with a mischief scheme in his eye. “I didn’t know a single word of Japanese back then, but because of that, the household members and the Master’s subordinates let their guard down around me. When I’d hear my name slip into conversations, and when no one was paying attention, I started memorizing the sounds, writing them down phonetically in Chinese characters. Sometimes, I even snuck outside the Master’s office to eavesdrop. Later, when they finally let me study Japanese, I translated my notes. I pieced together the words, connected the dots.”

He was letting out that manic laugh again, and Sakura’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sound of it. “And that’s when I found out—he didn’t just adopt me. He orchestrated the entire accident. My parents’ deaths, the hospital’s decision to abandon them, the authorities refusing to contact my relatives—it was all his doing. I wanted to kill him back then. I still do.”

The words dropped like stones, heavy and suffocating, and Sakura felt the air leave his lungs in a rush.

His mind struggled to grasp it—Suo’s parents didn’t just die. They were murdered. The man who saved him, the man who commanded the entire Hayato-gumi, had lived knowing the very person he served was the one who had stolen everything from him. And he still smiled, still played the part of the untouchable Oyabun.

Suo had built an empire with his own hands, surrounded himself with loyal men—a new family to replace the one that had been ripped away. But beneath the power, beneath the confidence and the smirk he always wore like armor, there was grief. A grief so deep, so unhealed, that even now, it lingered like a wound that never quite closed.

Sakura swallowed hard. He had known Suo was dangerous, but this was something else. The weight of it, the sheer cruelty of what had been done to him, made Sakura’s own past feel almost insignificant. How the hell had Suo lived with that knowledge for so long? How had he carried it alone. Then, as the silence stretched between them, Sakura realized—he didn’t have to carry it alone. Not anymore.

Suo had let Sakura in and told him about his past.

Sakura’s fingers curled into fists.

“Takiishi was right,” Suo said after a beat of silence. “Society was in chaos back then. So to the outside world, an orphaned boy being taken in by a wealthy businessman was a heartwarming sight, right? On the surface, he was a man of honor—a father figure in the eyes of society. But behind closed doors, he was a monster. We were nothing but pawns for his sick desires, and I was—and still am—the perfect little doll he’s ever had since the day I walked into that household.”

Sakura had a sinking feeling about where this was going—Takiishi’s words had hinted at something terrible—but he didn’t want to believe it unless he heard it from Suo himself. And now, with the way Suo’s entire body trembled with loathing, he knew it was the truth.

Without thinking, Sakura reached out. His fingers closed around Suo’s trembling hand, grounding him like he had always done to Sakura when something overwhelming happened. Suo didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a slow, uneven breath and leaned into Sakura’s shoulder, as if the weight of everything had finally become too much to bear.

In that moment, Sakura didn’t see the powerful Oyabun who stood above so many. He didn’t see the man who commanded fear, respect, and unwavering loyalty. He only saw Suo—exhausted, vulnerable, human.

“I’ll kill him.” Sakura’s voice was steady, but his body burned with rage. His stomach twisted with something violent, something all-consuming. He didn’t just want the Master dead—he wanted to destroy him. “I’ll kill him for you.”

Suo flinched. A sharp, shaky breath escaped his lips. Then, suddenly, he tore himself from Sakura’s grasp, recoiling as if he had been burned. His single eye shimmered—not with anger, not with shame, but with fear.

“Why do you think I never told you?” Suo’s voice cracked, and Sakura knew this wasn’t a question meant to be answered. “Because I don’t want you to see this disgusting side of me, and I knew you’d want revenge for me. And going against the Master is a death sentence. And I—”

Sakura stared at him, heart pounding.

“I can’t lose you, Sakura-kun.”

Sakura’s eyes stung. For the first time in his life, someone said they wanted to keep him. Not abandon him. Not throw him away. His parents—Sakura’s heart ached, but at the same time, it healed when Suo reached out, warm fingers wiping away the silent tears that had fallen.

“You won’t lose me, Suo,” Sakura said between hiccups. He felt like a child, even though he should be the one comforting Suo. “Once I become your Kobun, no one can take me from you. You said it yourself, right? So please, Suo-san. This time, let me protect you—not just as your bodyguard, not just as your Kobun, but as the person you saved in that alleyway.”

Something in Suo seemed to crack. Without a word, he pulled Sakura into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Hot tears seeped into Sakura’s skin. Suo was crying—and for the first time, Sakura didn’t see a formidable man but a lost boy trapped in a nightmare. And he wished, more than anything, that he could save him.

Sakura’s hands trembled as he reached up, wrapping his arms around Suo’s shaking frame. He gripped his shirt tightly, as if holding him any closer could somehow keep him from slipping away.

They stayed like this for a long while until Suo finally subdued. He pulled back from the embrace, reclining into his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face with a tired sigh. His tears had dried, leaving only the redness around his eye and the tension in his jaw as evidence of his momentary vulnerability.

"Why?" Sakura whispered. His hands felt empty without Suo, so he clenched them together, resisting the urge to reach for him again. "Why have you endured this for over ten years?"

Suo let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “A kid could only do so much. So I raised my power first. The Master had more influence in the underground than anyone. He still does, but after his last stunt put him on the government’s radar, he’s been forced to stay in the shadows.”

“But…why did he let you become an Oyabun if he wanted to control you?”

A humorless smirk tugged at Suo’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "He made me an Oyabun so I could act in his place—handle what he couldn’t afford to anymore. He thought he still had control over me. That I’d never dare to betray him because…” Suo paused, his voice faltering for the first time. “Because he had my weakness in his grasp.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed. “Weakness?”

Suo didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out and ruffled Sakura’s hair, his touch unexpectedly gentle—like he was comforting a child. Or someone precious.

“Not anymore,” Suo murmured, and something in his voice made Sakura’s chest ache.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Then, a familiar glint flickered in Suo’s crimson eye, and Sakura felt an odd sense of relief. This was the Suo he knew—the one who wore confidence like armor, who faced the world with a smirk and a blade. But underneath it, he could still see the scars. The pain that never truly healed.

“But lately,” Suo continued, voice low and measured, “he’s starting to sense that I’m not as loyal as he assumed. And he’s making moves to keep me in line.” His fingers curled into a loose fist, trembling slightly, as if resisting the urge to lash out. “I still go when he calls. We both know we’re plotting against each other, but we have to keep up the act. It’s not as simple as drawing a blade. There’s too much at stake—too many lives, too much to lose. So we wait. We wait for the right moment to deliver the final blow.”

His eye darkened. “I don’t just want him dead. I want to drag his entire empire down with him.”

Sakura’s stomach twisted at the thought. He hated that Suo had to keep walking into the lion’s den, playing this dangerous game with the man who had already taken so much from him. But he also knew Suo was right. This wasn’t a fight that could be won with brute strength alone. It required patience, strategy—and sacrifice.

“Soon,” Suo said, his voice steady but urgent, “Takiishi will make his move. And when he does, I need you by my side—as my Kobun.”

Sakura nodded, his resolve unshaken. “Then let’s do the ceremony tomorrow.”

Suo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Are you sure? You still look like shit, quoted by Sugishita.”

Sakura huffed, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “I’m sure. I’ll be ready. I just—” He hesitated, his cheeks flushing as the words caught in his throat. “If you could—if you stayed with me here until I fall asleep, I think I’d feel better. Faster.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Sakura wanted to bury his face in the pillow. It was embarrassing, asking for something so small yet so intimate. But he couldn’t take it back—and he didn’t want to. He needed this. Needed him.

Suo’s expression softened, the sharp edges of his features melting into something warm and tender. “I’ll stay,” he said simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He reached over and fluffed Sakura’s pillow, then gently pushed him back down onto the bed. “Now rest. Close your eyes. This time, I won’t go anywhere.”

Sakura hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Suo’s face—the faint shadows under his eye, the way his lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. Then, with a quiet sigh, he let himself relax, his body sinking into the mattress. He closed his eyes, the world narrowing to the sound of Suo’s steady breathing and the warmth of his hand wrapped around Sakura’s.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sakura felt safe. The weight of everything—the fear, the pain, the uncertainty—seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet, unshakable trust. He believed Suo. Believed in the promise behind his words, in the strength of his presence. And as sleep pulled him under, Sakura held onto that feeling, letting it carry him into the darkness.

———

The first thing Sakura saw when he cracked his eyes open the next morning was Tsugeura’s big, shit-eating grin looming over him like a poorly timed sunrise.

“Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” Tsugeura said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Sakura groaned, his head pounding like a drumline at a bad concert. He squinted at Tsugeura, then glanced around the room. Where was Suo? Suo was the one he wanted to see, not this walking headache.

“Ugh,” Sakura grumbled, his voice hoarse. “Where’s—?”

“Suo? Oh, don’t worry, your beloved Oyabun was here all night,” Tsugeura interrupted, leaning casually against the wall. “In fact, when I showed up this morning, I found him slumped over your bed, dead to the world. I almost felt bad for waking him up.”

Sakura blinked, his foggy brain struggling to process the information. “He—stayed here?”

“Every night,” Tsugeura confirmed, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been out cold for three days, you know. High fever, delirious muttering, the whole nine yards. You’d wake up just long enough to eat a few bites of food or stumble to the bathroom—impressive coordination, by the way, considering you were basically a walking zombie. But Suo? He’s been here every single night, watching over you. And now he looks like he’s the one who got stabbed. Dark circle, messy hair, the works. Honestly, it doesn’t look good on him as an Oyabun.”

Sakura’s chest tightened, a mix of guilt and something warmer he couldn’t quite name. “I—don’t remember much,” he admitted, rubbing his temples. “Just bits and pieces. It’s all hazy.”

Tsugeura snorted. “Yeah, fever’ll do that to you. You were pretty out of it. At one point, you tried to fight the IV stand because you thought it was ‘looking at you funny.’ Classic Sakura.”

Sakura groaned again, this time in embarrassment. “Shut up. I don’t need a play-by-play.”

“Oh, but it got better,” Tsugeura continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Last night, though? You were sobbing uglily like a kid into the pillow and I had to retrieve Suo immediately. And now you’re awake and brand new. Almost like you and Suo had some kind of heartfelt moment back then. Care to share with the class?”

Sakura shot him a glare, though it was less effective with his face still pale and his hair sticking up in every direction. “Fuck you. My head’s killing me, and you’re not helping.”

Tsugeura held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying, if you’ve somehow managed to charm the great and terrifying Suo into playing nurse, you might want to remember what you did. For science.”

“For science?” Sakura deadpanned. “You’re such an idiot.”

“And yet, here I am, the idiot who’s been checking on you too,” Tsugeura shot back, his grin softening just a fraction. “Don’t get used to it, though. I’m not about to start bringing you soup or tucking you in at night. That’s clearly Suo’s job now.”

Sakura rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Tsugeura said, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find Suo and tell him his favorite patient is awake and ready for his wedding—oops I mean Kobun ceremony. Try not to fall back into a coma before he gets here, okay?”

“Bastard,” Sakura muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. As Tsugeura left, Sakura leaned back against the pillows, his mind racing. Three days. Suo had been here every night. So moments Sakura felt his comforting touches were not dreams at all. And now he really hoped Suo could use all his authority to zip up Tsugeura’s mouth. The last thing he wanted was Tsugeura decided to “help” by making up his own version of events and spreading rumors.

Now, he had to be ready—body and mind—to stand as Suo’s Kobun. If he wanted to protect him. If he wanted to save him.

Chapter Text

Sakura had expected something more…private than this. But as it turned out, the Kobun ceremony was to be held in front of the entire Hayato-gumi. And Nirei had decided for himself that he would be Sakura’s personal stylist for this occasion.

“It’s not for fashion, Nirei,” Sakura heaved out a long suffering sigh. He had said this five times already.

Nirei had been fussing over what Sakura should wear as if his life depended on it. Personally, Sakura had already decided—a button-up shirt tucked into a pair of pants was presentable enough. In fact, it was probably the most formal outfit he had ever worn. But apparently, Nirei had other ideas.

"You should wear kimono, Sakura-san," Nirei said, rummaging through Sakura’s closet, which was far from luxurious. It mostly consisted of casual clothes Suo had picked out for him during their occasional shopping trips, plus a single suit—something Suo had bought “just in case." And, judging by today’s circumstances, this was apparently the case.

"Why? The suit is already formal enough," Sakura grumbled from where he sat on the bed, arms crossed over his chest in a weak attempt to suppress his irritation. His leg still hurt, and he had absolutely no intention of cleaning up the mess Nirei was making.

"Because this is a traditional ceremony," Nirei said, exasperated, throwing up his hands like he was dealing with the biggest idiot in the yakuza world. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, "Besides, Suo will be wearing kimono. Don’t you want to match with him?"

"What? I—Who the hell said I wanted—" Sakura sputtered, heat rushing to his face despite himself. Without thinking, he grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Nirei’s head. "Shut the fuck up! Fine, do whatever you want! But I don’t even own a damn kimono—"

"Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head," Nirei beamed before dashing out of the room, vanishing before Sakura could even ask what kind of trouble he was about to cause.

Grumbling to himself, Sakura got up and made his way to the door, ready to shut—no, lock—it, deeming himself finally free from Nirei’s antics. But just as his fingers brushed the handle, something slammed into him with the force of a hurricane.

"Here, here!" Nirei screeched cheerfully, thrusting something into Sakura’s arms before he could even regain his balance.

Sakura caught it on instinct, arms stretching out as he glanced down to see what had just been shoved at him. A kimono set. Dark crimson nagagi, a lighter haori, and a golden obi sash. The colors struck him immediately—Suo’s colors. The deep red of his favorite earrings, the warmth of gold he always favored.

Sakura’s fingers tensed against the fabric. It was impossibly smooth—clearly high-quality silk, the kind that must have cost a fortune. His palms started sweating just from holding it, his mind catching up to what this meant.

"Akihiko Nirei, don’t tell me you took this kimono from Suo," Sakura said, his voice as solemn as he could muster, fixing Nirei with a horrified glare. Yes, he and Suo were on good terms, but that didn’t mean he could just wear Suo’s clothes—especially something this—this significant.

"Oh, yes. Suo wore this for his Oyabun ceremony. Umemiya-san’s sister had made it for him—"

"Give it back," Sakura hissed, shoving the set—carefully—back into Nirei’s arms. "Do you think I have a death wish? Put it back before Suo realizes it’s missing."

Nirei didn’t budge. "I don’t think Suo would get mad at someone he spent three nights beside their sickbed for," he mused. "If anything, he might even feel proud that his favorite person is wearing it."

Sakura sputtered, "You—Damn Tsugeura and his big mouth—and I—I'm not Suo’s favorite person—"

The words lacked conviction even to his own ears. Suo’s hot tears from the night before were still burned into his memory, the way the man had let him in, leaned on him, trusted him. Suo wouldn’t mind, would he? And it wasn’t like Sakura got the chance to wear his clothes every day either.

Fuck. Now he sounded like a high school girl swooning over her crush. Pathetic.

"...Fine."

"Good! Now, let’s get you dressed," Nirei said, grinning like a cat who had just cornered a mouse.

Sakura immediately took a step back. "I can put it on myself."

"Can you?" Nirei shot back, arching an eyebrow. "Because judging by how you tie your yukata after baths, I’d say no. And you don’t want to wrinkle and ruin Suo’s precious kimono, right?"

Sakura opened his mouth to argue—but then shut it with a click. He hated that Nirei had a point. With a scowl, he let out a sharp exhale. "Fine. Just hurry up."

"That’s the spirit," Nirei hummed, already setting to work.

Sakura stood stiffly as Nirei helped him into the dark crimson nagagi first, the silk gliding over his skin with a luxurious coolness that made him self-conscious. The lighter haori followed, draped over his shoulders. When Nirei moved to wrap the golden obi sash around his waist, Sakura tensed.

"This feels...too fancy," he muttered under his breath.

"It is fancy," Nirei said, cinching the obi snugly before stepping back to admire his work. "And it suits you."

Sakura huffed, crossing his arms—only to stop when he realized how elegant the sleeves looked in motion. Damn it. He couldn’t admit he started to like the feelings of wearing this.

Before he could dwell on it, Nirei was already reaching for his hair.

"Hey—what the hell?" Sakura jerked away, instinctively shielding his head.

"Relax, I’m just fixing this bird’s nest," Nirei said, rolling his eyes. "We can’t have you showing up looking like you just wrestled a damn tanuki."

Sakura scowled but let Nirei comb through his black and white strands, smoothing out the natural waves with precise fingers. His hair had grown longer over the years, falling past his nape, slightly unruly at the ends. Nirei took his time, parting it in a way that framed his face better, making sure the contrasting colors blended just right.

The gentle tugging was oddly soothing, though he wished it was someone else brushing his hair at this moment. Sakura pushed the thought aside before it could fully form.

"There. Perfect," Nirei declared with a satisfied nod, stepping back to admire his work. "Now, take a look."

Sakura turned toward the mirror—and froze.

He looked...different. More put together. The kimono draped over him as if it had always been his. His hair, usually tousled, was neatly arranged, accentuating the sharp lines of his face.

A flicker of unease stirred in his chest. He had spent most of his life as the scrappy street kid, the reckless fighter. Seeing himself like this—refined, poised, worthy of standing beside Suo—was unsettling.

Nirei caught his expression in the reflection and grinned. "See? I told you you’d look good."

Sakura scoffed, tearing his gaze away. "Whatever."

"Uh-huh." Nirei smirked. "You’re blushing, by the way."

"Shut the fuck up, Nirei."

———

Sakura found Togame and Tomiyama waiting in the garden outside the ceremonial hall. He hadn't expected members of other yakuza families to attend Hayato-gumi ceremonies —though it wasn’t exactly unwelcome. Still, their presence caught him off guard. He had questions for Togame, anyway.

“Well, well, look who got all dolled up,” Togame whistled as Sakura approached, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. He leaned in just enough to be irritating. “This kimono suits you too well, pretty boy. Maybe I should steal you before the ceremony even starts.”

Sakura bristled, but Tomiyama beat him to it.

“Suo would chop off your hand before you even got the chance to touch Sakura-chan,” Tomiyama said cheerfully, his gaze dropping to Sakura’s hand. His eyes lit up. “Oh! Your ring is so pretty too!”

Sakura stiffened. He had completely forgotten about the ring—Suo’s ring—the one he had been wearing like a second skin since the mission.

“You got a ring?” Togame tilted his head, leaning down to inspect it. “Damn, it’s so subtle only someone as short as Choji would notice.”

“Suo gave it to me—” Sakura began, only for Togame to immediately cough into his fist.

“Suo’s so gay.”

“What?! He’s not— It’s just a tool for emergencies—” Sakura sputtered, his face burning.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling.” Togame waved him off with a smirk. “But let me tell you something in case your oblivious bouncy ass hasn’t noticed—he gave you a ring, and now he’s holding a whole ceremony just for you? Tell me that doesn’t sound like a wedding. I bet he even has a matching one.”

Sakura felt his entire body heat up at the assumption. Tomiyama, to his utter mortification, was already doubling over in laughter.

“Shut up,” Sakura huffed, stomping his foot against the ground. “I don’t have time for your bullshit. I actually wanted to ask you something.”

Togame grinned. “Oh? Go on, then.”

“The other day—what did Suo say to you? Outside Tomiyama’s building?”

Togame hummed, rubbing his chin in exaggerated thought. The motion was so similar to Suo’s that it only further cemented Sakura’s suspicion that these two were closer than they liked to admit.

“Well, let’s see… He told me not to act too familiar with you.”

Sakura frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Togame smirked. “Nothing special. Maybe he’s just a little too possessive for his own good. A little too…” He leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Gay.”

Sakura’s eye twitched. He was going to kill this man.

“Talking to you is pointless,” he growled before storming off, the heavy fabric of his kimono slowing him down just enough to hear Togame’s parting words—

“Just wait. You’ll come crawling to my knees for a talk soon, darling.”

Sakura clenched his fists and marched ahead, willing himself not to turn back. Damn Togame and his stupid innuendos.

———

The afternoon sun streamed through the shoji screens, bathing the ceremonial hall in a warm, golden glow. Sakura knelt rigidly on the raised platform, the weight of the silence pressing down on his shoulders like a physical force.

The entire Hayato-gumi had gathered—over two hundred men and women in black suits, their presence a tangible reminder of the family’s power. Until now, Sakura had only known a fraction of them—those who lived and worked in the mansion, the ones he crossed paths with daily. But seeing them all together, their collective gaze fixed on him, made him feel small in a way he hadn’t in years.

His eyes flickered across the crowd, but meeting their stares felt impossible. Crowds had always made his skin prickle, his palms sweat. And now, with all eyes on him, he could barely keep himself from fidgeting.

This wasn’t just a ceremony. It was an oath—a bond that would shape the rest of his life. His hands were clammy, his pulse a steady thrum beneath his skin. He was nervous, yes, but never afraid.

Then he felt him.

The room’s atmosphere shifted the moment Suo entered. Draped in a dark kimono embroidered with intricate silver patterns, his silky hair was tied back neatly into a high knot, emphasizing the sharp features of his face. Today, he wore a single earring, its design striking—two pearls, one black and one white, dangling from delicate chains adorned with black tassels. He moved with effortless authority, his presence settling over the gathered men like a quiet storm. Power clung to him, not just in his stance but in the way he carried himself, as if obedience were his birthright.

For a fleeting moment, Sakura forgot the man from last night—the one who had let his guard down, his voice raw and vulnerable as he whispered fragments of his past in the dim glow of the infirmary room. That version of Suo felt distant now, like a fragile secret entrusted only to Sakura, one that no one else in the room could ever glimpse.

As Suo stepped forward, every man in the room rose from their kneeling positions, heads bowing in reverence. His presence demanded attention without a single word.

Then Suo’s crimson eye found him, sharp and assessing. His gaze shifted to Sakura’s clothing, and something in his expression flickered. Sakura’s breath caught. He had forgotten—he was wearing Suo’s kimono.

Panic crept in for a split second. This was Suo’s kimono—the one he had worn for his own Oyabun ceremony, something deeply personal. Nirei’s reassurances from earlier felt flimsy now under Suo’s scrutinizing stare. Had he overstepped?

But then—Suo’s gaze softened.

A small smile curled at the edge of his lips—discreet, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably proud.

Sakura barely had time to process it before Suo moved forward, settling onto the raised platform across the low table. Unlike Sakura, who knelt, Suo sat with his legs crossed, his posture perfectly composed—back straight, shoulders squared, every inch the commanding Oyabun.

“The kimono suits you,” Suo said, his voice low and carrying a playful edge. “Keep it.”

Sakura’s face flushed. Suo was effortlessly elegant, and if his kimono looked good on Sakura too, then maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to appearances. He’d never cared much about how he looked before, but now, under the weight of hundreds of watching eyes and simply Suo’s intense gaze, he felt exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

Too caught up in his embarrassment, Sakura hadn’t realized he needed to respond, letting the silence stretch far longer than it should have.

“Cat got your tongue?” Suo smirked.

It was only then that Sakura noticed how he’d been unconsciously shrinking back, his nerves betraying him.

“Shu—” The word nearly slipped out before he caught himself, biting it back just in time. They were in front of the entire family, in the middle of a solemn ceremony. He couldn’t afford to let Suo’s teasing rattle him. He should show his respect to the man and keep his Oyabun’s image.

Instead, he exhaled quietly and mumbled, just loud enough for Suo to hear, “Too many people.”

Suo chuckled, the sound low and unmistakably amused, before reaching out to place his palm over Sakura’s restless hands. The warmth startled him, and he flinched—just slightly—but didn’t pull away.

What caught him off guard even more was the ring on Suo’s middle finger. Had it always been there? No, he would’ve noticed. Suo hadn’t worn it before. Had he?

Sakura’s breath hitched as he took a closer look. The design was unmistakable—a golden band, thicker than his own, with a hexagonal frame adorned with deep red stones. Rubies, most likely. And it was crafted in a way that could perfectly embrace the hexagonal sapphire of his own ring. His fingers twitched beneath Suo’s hand. What was he supposed to make of this?

His mind raced for an explanation, and instinctively, his gaze darted to where Togame was seated. Maybe the bastard had an answer.

Big mistake.

Togame was easy to spot—he always was, built like a damn boulder—but at this very moment, he was leaning slightly forward, covering his mouth with one hand and mouthing the word Gay.

Sakura’s eye twitched violently.

Damn it. He hated to admit it, but Togame had a point. Matching rings? In a sakazuki ceremony? It wasn’t exactly subtle. But just the fact that Togame was right about it made Sakura want to punch him in the face.

Suo gave his hands a brief, final squeeze before withdrawing. The warmth lingered long after.

“Look at me,” Suo said, his voice firm. “You should pay attention to me and our family alone now, Sakura. They’re here for us.”

Suo’s expression was colder now, his crimson eye sharp. He had clearly caught the silent exchange between Sakura and Togame, and wasn’t pleased one bit.

Sakura swallowed hard, realizing his distraction had brought him a very jealous Oyabun. His fingers curled slightly in his lap as he lifted his gaze to meet Suo’s. He whispered, “Sorry.”

Exhaling through his nose, Sakura let his eyes sweep over the gathered men and women again—this time truly looking at them. Suo was right. The silence in the hall wasn’t empty; it was thick with expectation. This wasn’t just about him or Suo. It was about all of them.

This moment had been long awaited—perhaps even more by them than by him. For years, they had followed Suo, fought for him, and built this family under his leadership. Yet, through all that time, Suo had never taken a Kobun. Not once. It was unheard of for a man in his position, yet no one had dared question it. Suo’s rule had been absolute, his strength undeniable. But now, with Sakura kneeling before him, that unbroken precedent was about to change.

Nirei’s eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement, his usual boisterous side softened by something warmer—pride, maybe. He caught Sakura’s eye and gave a quick thumbs-up. Hiragi, ever composed, watched him intently before offering a firm nod. Even Kaji, who rarely gave anything his full attention, had taken off his headphones and set aside his lollipop, an unspoken acknowledgment of the moment’s gravity.

Sugishita, for once, wasn’t glaring daggers at him. His usual scrutiny was absent—likely because he was too focused on assisting Umemiya. Despite his poor health, Umemiya had insisted on presiding over the ceremony himself. Sakura could see why Suo respected him so much. Umemiya was more than just a mentor; he was the supporter of everything Suo had built.

And for a nostalgic moment, Sakura wished Kotoha had been there. To see that he had become something more than a stray with nowhere to go. Soon after the war with the Master was over, the first thing he would do was return to District 5 and find her. Then, they could provide her with something to call home.

The room fell into absolute silence as Umemiya stepped forward. Even though his health had visibly declined, his voice was steady, carrying the weight of years of authority.

“In a yakuza family,” Umemiya began, “a Kobun is more than a title—it is a bond of loyalty, trust, and shared purpose. An Oyabun chooses only one Kobun, and only when they are certain.”

He turned to Suo, his gaze unwavering.

“Suo,” Umemiya continued, “has waited half a decade to name a Kobun. While most Oyabun choose their right hand immediately, Suo has led this family alone, bearing its weight without sharing the burden. But those who know him understand—Suo does nothing without reason. He does not act out of haste or obligation. He acts out of conviction. Today, Suo has chosen Sakura. This is a testament to Sakura’s strength, his loyalty, and Suo’s trust in him.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Umemiya turned to Sakura, his gaze piercing yet kind. “Sakura, you are not merely being given a title. You are being entrusted with a responsibility that extends beyond yourself. You are to stand by Suo’s side, to share in his victories and his burdens, and to uphold the values of this family with every fiber of your being. Do you understand and take this commitment?”

Sakura’s throat felt tight, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced at Suo, who met his gaze with an intensity that made his breath catch. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.

“I do,” Sakura said, loud and clear and carrying around the hall.

Umemiya nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then let this ceremony be a reminder to all of us. Suo has placed his trust in Sakura, and in doing so, he has reaffirmed his trust in this family. We, in turn, must honor that trust. We must stand united, as we always have, and continue to build a legacy worthy of the sacrifices that have been made.”

The room erupted into murmurs of agreement, the tension easing as the weight of Umemiya’s words settled over them.

Sugishita stepped forward, carrying an elegantly carved wooden tray that held a bottle of sake and a sakazuki cup. The cup was a delicate piece of craftsmanship, its shallow, open mouth made of high-quality china adorned with intricate patterns of clouds, waves, and a bold red sun at its center. He placed the tray neatly on the low table before retreating, his movements surprisingly precise and respectful.

Umemiya took the bottle and poured the sake into the sakazuki cup. The aroma was rich and potent, stronger than the sake Sakura had taken at Tomiyama’s place. It filled the air, sharp and heady, as if marking the gravity of the moment.

Suo reached for the cup, his elegant hands moving with practiced ease, as though he had performed this ritual countless times before. His single crimson eye locked onto Sakura’s as he took the first sip—slow, elegant yet heavy with meaning. Sakura’s eyes flickered to the movement of Suo’s throat as he swallowed, the act somehow both intimate and ceremonial.

Instead of placing the cup back on the tray, Suo held it out to Sakura, his fingers curled lightly around the rim. Sakura hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding, before reaching out to take it. Their fingers brushed—brief, almost accidental, but enough to send a jolt of electricity through Sakura’s hand. Suo’s skin cool against Sakura’s. The contact lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, a silent exchange that spoke louder than words.

Sakura had practiced this under Umemiya’s guidance. He knew how to hold the sakazuki cup—how the placement of his fingers would convey respect and appreciation. He lifted the cup with one hand supporting the bottom and the other cradling the side, his touch firm yet reverent. The act had to be both polite and steady, a reflection of his resolve. Sakura focused, willing his hands not to tremble. If they did, it would mean his resolve was faltering, and he couldn’t allow that. Not here. Not now.

He brought the cup to his lips, the scent of sake flooding his senses in a warm, intoxicating rush. He took the first sip and savored it like Suo had done. The liquid burned a path down his throat, spreading warmth through his chest before settling deep in his core, a quiet fire that anchored him.

When he finished, Sakura placed the cup back on the tray with care. A soft murmur of approval rippled through the hall, but Sakura’s attention was fixed on the man in front of him.

Suo’s crimson eye gleamed, brighter than Sakura had ever seen it, and his lips curved into a smile that was unmistakably genuine—warm, unrestrained, and full of something Sakura couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t the usual smirk or the teasing grin Suo wore like armor. This was different. This was happiness, pure and unguarded, and it made Sakura’s chest ache in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

For a horrifying moment, Sakura wished he could just grab Suo by the collar, pull him close, and kiss him on the mouth, tasting the faint traces of sake that still lingered on his lips. The thought was sudden and utterly unbidden. His heart pounded harder than it should, his cheeks burning. The alcohol must have been doing really weird things to his system.

Get a grip, he thought, forcing himself to focus. This is not the time.

For a moment, Suo’s smile lingered, carrying a sentiment that was almost too intimate for the setting. But then, as if remembering where they were, he straightened slightly, the softness in his expression giving way to his usual calm composure. His gaze remained steady, but the warmth was tempered now, replaced by the quiet authority that always seemed to surround him.

“Haruka Sakura,” he said, his voice serious, yet still carrying a trace of that earlier warmth. “From this moment forward, will you swear loyalty to me and me alone?”

Sakura’s words rushed out, faster than he intended, but they came from a place so deep within him that he couldn’t hold them back. “Suo-san, the time we’ve known each other may not be long, but from the moment we met, I’ve owed you more than just my life. Before you, I was nothing—a stray with no purpose, no direction. You gave me a place to belong. You gave me a reason to exist. You gave me you.”

His voice wavered for a moment, but he steadied it, his gaze locking onto Suo’s with unwavering determination. “My purpose now is to follow you, to serve you, to stand by your side no matter what comes. If you tell me to kill, I’ll kill. If you tell me to burn, I’ll set myself on fire to light your way. My life, my blade, my honor—they’re yours. Until my last breath, until my heart stops beating, you will always have me and my loyalty.”

Suo’s gaze held his for a charged moment, something unreadable burning in his crimson eye. Then, without a word, he shifted his position, kneeling formally before turning his head slightly to address Umemiya.

“Umemiya-san, please help me prepare the branding ritual.”

Umemiya’s eyes widened a fraction, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually composed expression. Sakura was also caught off guard at the decision. He had no idea what the branding ritual entailed, nor had anyone mentioned it as part of today’s ceremony. A thousand questions raced through his mind, but he bit them back. This wasn’t the time to doubt or hesitate—not when the weight of Suo’s command hung in the air like a thunderclap.

After a brief pause, Umemiya nodded to Sugishita, who disappeared behind the folding screens. When he returned, he carried a tray bearing a golden bowl the size of Sakura’s palm, filled with dark pellets. Beside it lay a pair of golden tongs and a hand-sized torch lighter, their intricate patterns catching the light.

So, they were going to brand him. That much was clear now. A burn, a scar, a little pain—it was nothing to Sakura. If Suo demanded it, he would endure it without question.

Umemiya stepped forward again, his voice steady. “This branding will bind you to Suo in life and death. Should your loyalty falter, Suo will end your life with his own hands, and in doing so, forfeit his title as Oyabun. Do you want to take this oath?”

Sakura didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

The word left his lips before he could second-guess it. To protect Suo’s future, to stand by his side no matter the cost—Sakura would do anything but betray him.

Suo’s proud smile returned. The tenderness in his gaze was almost too much to bear, and for a moment, Sakura forgot how to breathe.

Suo then slid the ring off his finger, the movement delicate yet firm, and nodded at Sakura to do the same. Sakura understood what it meant immediately, and a surprised gasp escaped him.

“I thought it was a tool for emergencies,” he whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

“It is,” Suo replied, a low chuckle escaping him. “The chip inside’s made of heat-resistant material. It won’t be ruined.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sakura nearly shouted, his voice rising despite himself. “You gave me the ring for this? You’ve planned it all along, haven’t you?”

Despite his inquiries, Sakura pulled off the ring and placed it carefully on the tray next to Suo’s. Now that they were side by side, there was no denying it—they were definitely a pair.

“Hmmm,” Suo hummed, rubbing his chin as he glanced at Sakura. “Do you have any problems with that?”

Actually—surprisingly, no. Sakura was even a little flattered that Suo had intended to mark him all along. Though, when he put it like that, it sounded more intimate in a way that was both thrilling and slightly disturbing. Not that Sakura cared. In fact, he kind of liked it. But he’d never admit it out loud.

“It’s alright,” Sakura said, his tone a little pouty, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

Umemiya stepped forward and ignited the coal pellets inside the golden bowl. The flames flickered to life, casting a warm, eerie glow across the room. He picked up Sakura’s ring with the golden clippers, holding it over the fire until the metal glowed a faint, dangerous red.

“Where shall I mark?” Umemiya asked.

“Our napes,” Suo replied without hesitation, his tone steady and unwavering.

Sakura held his breath. The nape—a place hidden yet intimate, a mark that would remain unseen by most but carried forever. It felt symbolic, somehow, as if Suo wanted the bond between them to be both private and unbreakable.

Umemiya nodded and moved behind Suo. Without a word, Suo tilted his head forward, reached back to hold his hair to one side, exposing the back of his neck. The room seemed to hold its breath as Umemiya pressed the heated ring against Suo’s skin.

Sakura expected a flinch, a grimace, anything—but Suo remained perfectly still, his expression as collected and calm as ever. The faint sizzle of burning flesh filled the air, and Sakura’s stomach churned. He knew it had to hurt like hell, but Suo showed no sign of agony, no hint of discomfort. It was as if he were carved from stone, unyielding and unshakable.

When Umemiya pulled the ring away, the faint smell of charred skin lingered, and Sakura’s chest tightened. Sakura thought it was done, but Umemiya reheated the ring, this time holding the hexagon sapphire closer to the fire. He then pressed it against Suo’s skin again, in the middle of the earlier circle, marking it an exclusive brand that only Suo would bear.

Then it was Sakura’s turn.

Umemiya picked up Suo’s ring this time, holding it over the flames, the metal glowing as Sakura braced himself. He tilted his head forward, mimicking Suo’s posture, but his heart raced in a way it hadn’t before. The anticipation was worse than the pain itself—or so he thought.

The searing metal pressed into his skin, pain shooting through his body like a lightning strike. He clenched his fists, refusing to flinch. This was his vow, his promise—etched into his flesh, unbreakable. But he could see the tightening of Suo’s jaw as he watched Sakura being branded.

Just as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, Suo leaned in close, his breath warm against Sakura’s ear. “Good boy,” he whispered, his voice low and approving.

The words sent a different kind of heat coursing through Sakura—one that burned brighter than the ring ever could. His cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the pain faded into the background, replaced by something far more overwhelming.

After just some seconds but feeling like decades, finally Umemiya pulled the ring away. Sakura exhaled shakily, his body trembling despite his best efforts to stay composed. One more step and this would be over. Umemiya pressed the burning ruby hexagon frame in the middle, and Sakura hissed at the pain again.

When the branding was finally over, Sakura saw the brief, almost imperceptible sigh of relief from Suo, his shoulders dropping slightly as he relaxed. The mark on his nape throbbed, a constant reminder of the bond they had just sealed.

After the ceremony concluded, the family members gathered in small groups, their voices a low hum of conversation. A large crowd surrounded Umemiya, their concern evident as they asked about his health. Many of them had been part of Umemiya’s own yakuza family before it merged with Hayato, and their loyalty to him was palpable.

Suo lingered on the raised platform beside Sakura. As the pain in his nape began to ebb, Sakura just stood there to will his heart to calm down after the intensity of the ceremony. Suo’s hand brushed against his—a brief touch, but enough to ground him. Then, without warning, Suo leaned in and blew on his nape.

“The fuck—” Sakura jerked away, the sensation sending a sharp jolt through him. It still hurt like hell, and Suo’s unnecessary teasing only made it worse. He cursed under his breath and slapped a hand onto Suo’s chest to push him back when Suo just kept blowing again. “Damn you. Stop it.”

Suo barked a laugh, utterly unfazed.

“Behave,” he said, his voice teasing. “The ritual isn’t done yet. Tomorrow, you’ll get your first tattoo. More pain to come, if I have to remind you. Then you’ll officially be a yakuza—a Hayato yakuza member.” He paused, his crimson eye glinting with mirth. “Like I said, if you behave, I’ll let you have some say in the design.”

Sakura glared at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “Behave? If you want me to behave, maybe stop tormenting me for five seconds. You’re the one blowing on my neck like it’s a damn candle. If I’m getting a tattoo tomorrow, you’d better not blow on that too.”

Suo chuckled, his crimson eye glinting with mischief. “Oh, there’re plenty of things I’d like to blow, if you ask me.”

“I am not asking you anything,” Sakura shrieked, his voice rising an octave.

He could feel steam practically shooting out of his ears, his face burning so hot at Suo’s implication that he was surprised his skin didn’t blister. And he was absolutely ignoring Togame’s hoot of laughter from somewhere in the background. Of course the guy just had to eavesdrop. And Sakura would never hear the end of it every single time they crossed paths from now on.

He crossed his arms and looked away to hide his flustered face from Suo, determined to salvage what little dignity he had left. Suo’s chuckle lingered in the air, warm and teasing, a reminder that no matter how much Sakura protested, he was exactly where he was meant to be—by Suo’s side, in the heart of the Hayato family.

Chapter Text

“And what exactly do you need of me, Sakura-kun?”

Yeah, that. What is Sakura doing in Suo’s room, exactly?

The question hung in the air, soft but cutting, like the edge of a blade resting against skin. Sakura froze, his mind scrambling for an answer that didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He had come here, at one o’clock, under the pretense of discussing his tattoo design—a flimsy excuse, even to his own ears. But the truth was far more complicated, far more humiliating. Not that he was frustrated. And absolutely not that he was horny as hell.

He had spent the entire evening pacing his room, the events of the ceremony looping in his mind like a broken record. Suo was everywhere-in his thoughts, in his skin, in the mark on his nape that still throbbed faintly, a reminder of the bond they now shared. Why had Suo given him a matching ring? Why had Suo chosen to perform the branding ritual, knowing how much they stood to lose? And why, above all, did Suo trust him so blindly?

The questions swarmed in his mind like fish darting to the surface, each one more unsettling than the last. But the one that gnawed at him the most was the simplest, and the most damning: Is Suo gay?

Sakura didn't have what people called a "gaydar." Most of his life had been consumed by survival-scraping for food, dodging danger, and staying alive. He hadn't had the luxury of noticing men, let alone analyzing whether someone might be like him—gay.

Suo was… always teasing, with almost everyone when the mood struck him. But his interactions were laced with sarcasm, poking at people’s insecurities in a way that was mean yet oddly caring. And he was always charming while doing it, which made it even harder to tell if Suo was just being his usual, infuriating self or if he was actually flirting—exclusively with Sakura.

Just thinking about Suo and his motives gave Sakura a damn migraine—and, terrifyingly, a fucking hard-on. When was the last time he'd touched himself and released some tension? Oh, right. Two nights before the Togame rescue mission. That was about a week ago. Not the longest he'd gone without getting off, but still. Hell, truth be told, he'd only had access to porn recently, after Suo bought him a smartphone. Damn it, why did everything have to circle back to Suo?

Fine. He'd sort out his dick quickly, release some stress, and then maybe—just maybe—sleep would come easier with his body satisfied, even if his mind was still a mess.

This time, Sakura decided to finish his business on the chair. There was no way he was risking Suo barging into his room and ambushing him like last time. Not that he'd exactly hated the idea...

He quickly browsed and opened a video of two guys-one of them, of course, had long dark hair. The guy was nothing compared to Suo's sharp, effortless handsomeness, but this would have to do for now. Sakura yanked his sweatpants down just enough to free his dick, careful not to disturb the wound on his thigh. The injury was partly healed, but the stitches were still there, and he wasn't about to risk tearing them open.

Sakura's hand drifted downward, hesitating for a moment before wrapping around himself. He gave a few tentative strokes, his grip loose and his pace slow at first. His skin was dry, and he knew he'd need to wait for some slickness from his precum before he could really lose himself in the rhythm.

But even as he moved, he couldn't shake the memory of Suo's voice-low, commanding, and impossibly close, as if the man were standing right beside him, whispering instructions into his ear. It wasn't just a memory; it felt real, vivid, and utterly inescapable. And did Sakura feel guilty and remorseful using his lust for his boss as a masturbation material? No, not even a little. It was Suo who had made his move on Sakura first after all.

With that excuse in mind, Sakura’s brain involuntarily conjured up Suo from last time—the way his yukata had slipped open, revealing his toned chest and the intricate lines of his fox tattoo.

Sakura's body reacted instantly, his cock hardening at the memory. He realized, with a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement, that he didn't need the porn anymore. Suo had become his own personal fantasy, enough to last him maybe the next six months.

Sakura reached for his phone to close the video. The guy on screen was doing a poor job of dirty-talking anyway-his voice too high-pitched to sound manly, his moans overly exaggerated and downright cringe. Since when had Sakura become such a picky porn critic? Apparently, Suo had ruined his expectations entirely. Now, nothing else could compare.

Just as he grabbed his phone, a notification popped up. It was from Nirei. Normally, Sakura would have ignored it—unless it was something urgent. At this hour, he preferred to rest and unwind alone rather than getting caught up in idle chitchat with his friends.

Wait. Friends?

Sakura paused, realizing he’d just thought of Nirei—and the others—as friends. It was strange, but not entirely unwelcome. Aside from Kotoha, he hadn’t really considered anyone a friend in a long time. The thought felt… nice, actually. Even if Nirei, and most of the Hayato members, were a little cracked in the head, Sakura could tell they’d make amazing friends—if their lives weren’t constantly hanging by a thread.

The message was an image, so Sakura reluctantly opened it. It was a photo from the ceremony—Sakura sipping sake from the sakazuki cup, and Suo… Suo looking at him with a soft smile, his crimson eye gleaming in the light.

Something in Sakura’s stomach did a strange flip-flop at the sight. Without thinking, he shifted his grip on his phone, using his other hand to zoom in on the image. He told himself it was just to get a better look at the details, but deep down, he knew the truth: he wanted to admire Suo’s beauty more clearly.

Another picture popped up, and Sakura’s cheeks flushed as he stared at it. Someone—probably Nirei—had captured the moment with perfect timing: Suo leaning in close, his lips nearly brushing Sakura’s ear as he whispered those two words. “Good boy.” It had been meant for Sakura to hear only.

At the time, Sakura had thought the moment was theirs alone, private and unobserved. But now, seeing the photo, it was clear that everyone in the hall had witnessed Suo’s expression. His eye was half-lidded, hazy as if intoxicated, and his lips curved into a small, playful smirk. It was a look that Sakura hadn’t seen—too immense in the pain of the branding—until now.

The worst part was that looking at Suo’s smirk now made his body ache even more. Quickly saving the two pictures, Sakura switched his phone to Do Not Disturb mode before Nirei’s inevitable flood of texts could start buzzing. He zoomed in on Suo’s playful expression, his fingers trembling slightly as he gave in to the urge again. The climax felt close, but never close enough. He pumped his cock until his hand grew sore, frustration mounting with every passing second.

Sakura slumped against the chair, his breath still uneven, his body still thrumming with unsatisfied need. He stared at his phone, the screen now dark, but the image of Suo’s smirk burned into his mind. His hand clenched around the device, frustration bubbling up again.

Why the hell can’t I just finish?

The answer was obvious, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Last time, Suo had been the one to push him over the edge. Suo had watched him, teased him, and somehow made it feel… different. Better. Real. And now, without him, it was like Sakura’s body refused to cooperate. And then, with a sinking sense of horror, he realized the truth: he couldn’t finish—not like this, not without Suo there in the flesh.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t need someone else to get off. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Suo had already crossed that line. He’d been the one to initiate it last time, hadn’t he? He’d been the one to sit there, calm and composed, while Sakura fell apart under his gaze.

The thought sent a shiver down Sakura’s spine, equal parts anticipation and dread. Suo wasn’t exactly predictable, but he’d never outright rejected Sakura before. If anything, he seemed to enjoy messing with him—teasing him, pushing his buttons, seeing how far he could go before Sakura snapped. And Sakura… well, he’d always let him.

Maybe that’s what this is, Sakura thought, his pulse quickening. Maybe Suo’s just waiting for me to ask.

The idea was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. Suo had never been one to shy away from crossing boundaries, and Sakura had never been one to back down from a challenge. If Suo had been open to it before, maybe he’d be open to it now. Maybe he’d even enjoy it.

Sakura’s face burned at the thought, but he couldn’t deny the heat pooling in his gut, the way his body seemed to respond to the mere idea of Suo’s hands on him. He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. This was insane. He was insane. But he couldn’t keep going like this—aching, frustrated, desperate. He needed Suo.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Sakura stood up, his legs shaky but determined, and strode out of his room. The hallway was quiet, the dim lighting casting long shadows as he made his way to Suo’s door. His heart pounded in his chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

When he reached Suo’s door, he hesitated for just a moment, his hand hovering over the wood. His mind raced, a thousand doubts and fears screaming at him to turn back. But then he remembered Suo’s smirk, the way his voice had dropped to a whisper, the way his gaze had lingered.

Sakura knocked—three sharp raps that echoed in the silence. And Suo’s voice came quicker than Sakura had expected at this hour, smooth and unhurried, as if he’d been waiting.

“Come in.”

Sakura stood frozen outside Suo’s door, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t expected Suo to actually invite him in. The door was supposed to be locked—it required either Suo’s fingerprint or an eye scan to open. Sakura blinked in surprise, then, on a whim, pressed his thumb against the scanner.

The door clicked open.

Sakura stared at it for a moment, his mind racing. Suo had set up his fingerprint as means to unlock his room? Why? A dozen questions flooded his mind, but he didn’t have time to dwell on them. The door was open now, and Suo was waiting.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura stepped inside.

Suo’s room wasn’t what he’d expected. For someone of Suo’s rank, he’d imagined something grand—spacious, luxurious, maybe even intimidating. But it wasn’t. It was only slightly larger than Sakura’s own room, with a minimalist feel. The most striking feature was the massive wardrobe that took up one wall, its dark wood polished to a shine. The rest of the room was simple: a desk cluttered with books and a laptop, a chair pushed haphazardly to the side, and a bed with a thick, inviting mattress.

Suo himself was sitting on the bed, reclining against a wall cushion with a book in his hands. He was dressed in a dark green yukata, the fabric loose and casual, and his crimson eye flicked up to meet Sakura’s as soon as he entered. There was a moment of silence as Suo studied him, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

"Well?" he prompted, his voice smooth and unhurried. "To what do I owe this honor?"

Truth be told, there were a thousand ways he could ease into this conversation of his predicament, a hundred subtle approaches he could take. But subtlety had never been his strong suit. He was a man of action, not tact. So he had decided to cut straight to the point.

Though now standing here under Suo’s scrutiny, Sakura's mouth suddenly went dry again. He had rehearsed this moment in his head a dozen times, but now that he was here, the words felt like ash on his tongue.

"It's all your fault," he blurted out, his voice sharp with accusation. He gestured pointedly at his crotch, which was still embarrassingly tented. "You know damn well what! Last time, when you—when you made me do it in front of you. You ruined it for me. I can't stop thinking about it. About you. And now I can’t finish it on my own unless you're there. You gotta fix this."

For a brief moment, Suo's composure faltered. His eye widened, and his lips parted slightly in surprise. But just as quickly, the moment passed, and his usual calm, teasing demeanor returned, his expression settling into that infuriating smirk.

“And what exactly do you need of me, Sakura-kun?” Suo said.

He set the book down beside him on the bed, folding his hands over his torso and crossing one leg over the other, looking like he knew exactly what Sakura was asking of him.

Touch me? Hold me? Anything as long as it’s you?

Sakura’s face burned, the heat so intense he felt like he might combust at any moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. How could he even begin to explain what he wanted?

“Come here.”

Suo’s voice cut through the silence. He raised a hand, waving him over. It was as if he’d taken pity on Sakura’s flustered state, offering him an out—or maybe just steering him exactly where he wanted him.

Sakura obeyed without thinking, walking a straight line to the bed. He couldn’t help but feel like a dog responding to its owner’s call—eager, unquestioning, and maybe just a little desperate. If he’d had a tail, it would’ve been wagging.

Sakura stood awkwardly beside the bed, his hands fidgeting over his still raging boner. Surprisingly, despite all the embarrassment, his libido was not losing at all. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, every fiber of his body trembling with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation.

Suo spread his legs slightly and gestured toward the space between them, his tone full of mirth. “You coming or not?”

Sakura hesitated, unsure what Suo expected of him. After a moment, he climbed onto the bed, settling between Suo's legs, his knees sinking into the soft mattress. He faced the man, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure he could hear it. Suo's hand came up to tilt his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Sakura's breath hitched at the contact, his skin burning where Suo's fingers brushed against him.

“You want me to help you out, right?” Suo asked, his voice a low rumble.

It wasn’t really a question—more like a demand for confirmation. Sakura knew Suo just wanted to hear him say it out loud.

Suo leaned in closer, his breath warm against Sakura’s ear as he added, “You do exactly as I say. No arguing. No backtalk. Understood?”

Sakura’s mind raced. Firstly, Suo wasn’t “helping” him—he was fixing what he’d ruined. Secondly, Sakura only followed Suo’s orders in yakuza matters because he was the Oyabun, the boss. But here, in this room, they were just two people. Equals.

The silence stretched too long, and Suo’s thumb swiped over Sakura’s lips, the touch light but got Sakura respond anyway. Sakura hissed at the sensation.

“Understood?” Suo asked again. This time his crimson eye turned a shade darker, intense, and his tone held none of his normal teasing, only demanding.

Sakura gulped. Something about Suo’s dark personality just got him all hot and bothered.

“Understood,” Sakura nodded quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down his spine as Suo’s sly smile returned and widened, clearly pleased with the response.

Suo gave Sakura’s hip a light pat. “Turn around. I don’t want to pressure your injured leg more.”

The statement sent warmth down Sakura’s stomach. Suo cared a lot, just in his own irritating way. Sakura swallowed hard and obeyed, shifting until his back was to Suo.

Before he could fully settle, Suo’s arm snaked around his torso, pulling him close until his back pressed against Suo’s chest. Sakura tensed for a moment, his breath hitching, but then he slowly relaxed, melting into the Suo’s embrace. Suo was spooning him—the position was both so intimate and frustrating, because now Sakura couldn’t sneak a peek at Suo’s chest.

"Have you applied balm to it yet?" Suo asked suddenly, his tone casual.

Sakura's face burned. "No. Thought my precum would be enough to ease the friction."

"Pfft-"

Suo was laughing. Actually laughing. The sound sent a strange somersault through Sakura's stomach. Suo rested his forehead on Sakura's shoulder, his body shaking with quiet snickers as he tried to calm himself.

"I mean—" Suo managed between laughs, "the brand. Have you put the healing balm on it?"

Oh.

"Stop messing with my head," Sakura snapped, his face flaming.

"Oh, your pretty head's filled with dirty thoughts, isn't it?" Suo teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

"That's exactly why I'm here, isn't it?"
Sakura huffed, mimicking Suo's tone.

The response only made Suo laugh harder, “You’re an honest man.”

"That's what you like about me, isn't it?" Sakura shot back, his voice trembling slightly despite his attempt to sound confident.

"Yes," Suo admitted, his breath brushing against Sakura's neck. "I like it very much."

The way he said it with such unexpected tenderness made it sound like he wasn't just referring to Sakura's honesty. For a moment, Sakura dared to hope that Suo meant something more—like he liked Sakura himself in a general sense of the word like. But before he could dwell on it, Suo hooked his fingers into the waistband of Sakura's sweatpants. He tugged them down slightly to brush against the sensitive skin of Sakura’s hip.

"Raise your hips," Suo ordered.

Sakura obeyed without hesitation, and Suo yanked both his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. His movements were precise, efficient, and surprisingly considerate of the wound on Sakura's
thigh.

The cool air against his now-bare skin made Sakura shiver, goosebumps rising across his body. But the chill didn't last long. Suo's hands were on him again, gripping his knees and gently prying his legs apart. He adjusted Sakura's position until his legs were spread wide, resting over Suo's thighs. The pose left Sakura completely exposed, and he flushed furiously, his instinct to close his legs thwarted by Suo's hands, which were now kneading the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

“Just relax,” Suo whispered into his ear, “let me treat you like a pillow princess.”

Sakura held his breath as Suo's hands continued their exploration, moving to the junctions between his thighs and hips. His fingers pressed into all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure through Sakura's body. Suo was an expert at this, there was no talkback about it, like everything else that he did. His touch was skillful, and utterly maddening.

"I'm not a pillow princess," Sakura argued weakly, though his protest was undermined by the way his body arched into Suo's touch. He was sinking deeper into the realm of pleasure.

Suo’s hand trailed up Sakura’s torso, his fingers lingering as they traced the lines of muscle, as if he were mapping every inch of him. He slid them up further under Sakura’s shirt to knead his chest and Sakura moaned at the simulation. His cock twitched involuntarily when Suo rubbed his nipples and fondle them between his fingers. And when Suo pinched and pulled on one of them, sharp and sudden, Sakura tried to convince himself that the sound he just made wasn’t a yelp.

"Is that so?" Suo murmured, the smirk evident in his voice.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the crook of Sakura's neck, and Sakura swore he felt the faintest hint of Suo's tongue—wet and soft. This was insane. "Then participate and help me out a little, won't you kitten? Now lick it."

Sakura blushed at the nickname. Pillow princess, and now this. How many endearments Suo gonna throw at him for just one night?

Suo released one of Sakura's nipples, raising his palm to Sakura's mouth. Sakura took the hint, gripping Suo's wrist with both hands and pulling it closer. Tentatively, he flicked his tongue out, giving Suo's fingers small, kittenish licks.

Suo hummed in approval, the sound low and encouraging, and Sakura grew bolder, darting his tongue out more insistently to lap at Suo's palm, coating it with saliva. When he decided it was wet enough for Suo to use, he stopped—only for Suo to press his hand closer, slipping two fingers into Sakura's mouth.

Sakura's breath hitched as Suo's fingers explored, fondling his tongue and rubbing against the roof of his mouth. It felt intimate, almost like Suo was kissing him—or fucking his mouth with his fingers. The thought sent a shiver down Sakura's spine, his body responding despite the whirlwind of embarrassment and desire swirling inside him. He was so hard he could explode.

Sakura's breathing grew more ragged with each passing second, his body trembling with need. Desperate for relief, he reached down to wrap his hand around himself, only to have it swiftly smacked away by Suo.

"Please—" Sakura gasped, the word muffled and distorted around Suo's fingers still pressed against his tongue.

Suo took mercy on him then. He pulled his hand away slowly, a thin string of saliva stretching between his palm and Sakura's mouth. His crimson eye gleamed with amusement as he leaned in.

"Since you asked so nicely," Suo said, his tone dripping with mock generosity, before wrapping his hand around Sakura's cock.

Finally.

The warmth and wetness of Suo’s palm was overwhelming, the pressure just enough to make Sakura’s head spin. Suo’s grip tightened slightly as his thumb brushed over the tip of his cock before pressing on the slit in a way that made him feel both too sensitive and thirsty for it. He bit his lip to stifle a sound, but it was no use. A low moan escaped him, raw and unfiltered.

Suo adjusted his grip, his fingers tracing the veins and exploring every sensitive spot, every curve and ridge, as if he were memorizing the feel of Sakura in his hand. And then, without warning, he quickened his pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding.

Sakura’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself together. He could feel the heat building inside him, coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke of Suo’s hand.

“Are you close?” Suo asked, breathing hot puffs of air down Sakura’s neck. “Is this enough for you?”

Sakura nodded. Words seemed to abandon him at this moment, and he couldn’t care less. As long as Suo got him and kept stroking him.

“You know what you’d like most?” Suo whispered. It seemed like Suo had a lot to talk during mating session to Sakura.

What could Sakura like even more than this already? Suo to fuck him?

Before Sakura could utter his fantasy, Suo’s lips brushed against the shell of Sakura’s ear. The goosebumps Sakura got at the act were immediate, like Suo had hit a button inside him. Sakura’s breath hitched, his head turning instinctively so as to lean more into the touch. Suo’s tongue traced a slow, torturous line along the edge of his ear, the wet heat sending a shiver down Sakura’s spine.

Sakura’s fingers clenched into the sheets, his knuckles turning white as Suo’s tongue delved deeper, exploring the sensitive curves with a precision that left Sakura trembling. The sound of Suo’s breath, warm and steady, filled his ear, drowning out every other thought. It was intimate, almost too intimate, and Sakura felt his resolve crumbling under the weight of it.

He craned his neck forward as the climax was about to consume him, and Suo took the opportunity to lick around the brand. Sakura gasped at the sensation. The brand sent a throbbing twinge through his body, but there was no denying that the feeling of Suo’s hot and wet tongue on him was exhilarating. Seemingly encouraged by Sakura’s even louder moans, Suo pinched his nipple one last time before using his hand to yank Sakura’s colar to one side, exposing more of his neck and shoulder.

Suo let his teeth graze lightly over the skin before tracing it with his tongue.

“I’d like to bite you,” Suo whispered. “But you will have the tattoo tomorrow. The marks would be controversial, wouldn’t it?

The thought of someone else seeing how Suo had marked his skin—mark him with his teeth did it for him.

His body arched involuntarily, his hips thrusting up into Suo’s tight grip as he pressed back even closer to Suo. Suo’s hand pumped him faster and Sakura’s body shook under the onslaught of sensation.

This was too much.

“There you go,” Suo whispered wetly into his ear. “Come for me.”

Sakura’s control shattered, his body arching off the bed as pleasure ripped through him. He cried out, the sound raw and unrestrained, as waves of ecstasy crashed over him. Suo’s hand never stopped moving, drawing out every last shudder, every last gasp, until Sakura was spent and trembling, his body collapsing back into Suo’s embrace.

"Now you've gone and made a mess," Suo observed, raising his hand to Sakura's eye level. His fingers glistened, sticky with come. "All over my hand and your shirt. Should've taken it off earlier." He tilted his head, his smirk sharp and teasing. "Think you'll be embarrassed when the maid notices it during laundry?"

Sakura was boneless, his body slumped and still trembling from the aftershocks of his climax. He was struggling to catch his breath, let alone form a coherent response to Suo's casual remarks. His mind was foggy, his thoughts sluggish, but one thing was clear: Suo's voice, husky and amused, was doing things to him.

"Oh, look," Suo added, his tone dripping with mock surprise. "You're still hard."

Sakura glanced down, his face flushing as he realized Suo was right. Despite just coming, his body was already stirring. Simply being this close to Suo was enough to give him a second boner.

"Can you stick your dick inside me?"

The words tumbled out before Sakura could second-guess them. Post-orgasm Sakura had even less tact than normal Sakura. But honestly, what was the point of denying it? His body was screaming for it—his hole twitching, his cock throbbing—and Suo was clearly just as turned on. The hard length pressing against Sakura's ass was proof enough.

For a long moment, Suo didn't respond.

Shit. Had he gone too far? Just because Suo hadn’t rejected him didn’t mean he’d be willing to go this far—not even under the guise of “helping” Sakura with his libido. What if he thought Sakura was taking advantage of everything he’d done for him? Especially with all that had happened to him with the Master.

The thought hit Sakura like a punch to the gut. Fuck. He was being an idiot—an insensitive, selfish idiot. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to hurt Suo. He didn’t want to take. He wanted to give, to heal, to be someone Suo could rely on, not another bastard just trying to force himself on him.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, and Sakura felt sick in his stomach. He mustered the courage to turn around, bracing himself for the worst: offense, anger, disgust, or worse, hatred.

Instead, he found Suo just looking simply surprised. His crimson eye was wide, his usual composure momentarily shattered. And if Sakura wasn't still riding the high of his climax and the overwhelming urge to punch himself for being a reckless idiot, he'd swear Suo was blushing. The faint rosy hue on his cheeks was unmistakable.

"Wait. What's this?" Sakura huffed out a surprised—mostly relieved—laugh. For the first time since they'd met, he felt like he had the upper hand. "Are you blushing, my dear boss?"

Suo looked away, clearing his throat, though the blush deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears. "It's just hot in here," he muttered, fanning the collar of his yukata for emphasis. "And that's a bold request. Very bold.”

Suo contemplated, his expression shifting from surprise to something deeper, more introspective. His brows furrowed slightly, and his gaze drifted to a distant point—somewhere far beyond Sakura, as if he were lost in a memory or a thought that Sakura couldn’t reach. For a moment, it felt as though Suo wasn’t truly there with him, his mind wandering to a place Sakura couldn’t follow.

It was the first time Sakura had seen Suo hesitate like this, especially when it came to him. The uncertainty in Suo’s demeanor was suffocating, sending a sharp pang of panic through Sakura’s chest. It felt as though Suo was slipping away from him.

Desperate to anchor him, Sakura reached out and grasped Suo’s hand, his own trembling. “Suo-san?” His voice was soft, almost pleading, as if he could pull Suo back with the sound of his name alone.

Suo blinked, his gaze refocusing on Sakura as though seeing him for the first time. His crimson eye bore into Sakura’s, searching, weighing.

“Do you know what you’re asking, Sakura-kun?” His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken—something Sakura couldn’t quite decipher.

The question grounded Sakura. Did he want this—did he want Suo? Yes. The answer came easily, without hesitation. But did he want to pressure Suo into this? No. That wasn't what this was about.

"I—it was just the heat of the moment," Sakura said quickly, backtracking. He didn’t want to pressure Suo into this, like he was a burden that was asking too much.

There was a flash of something like hurt in Suo's eye, fleeting but unmistakable.

Fuck. Sakura and his stupid mouth.

"No—" Sakura corrected himself, his voice firm this time. He needed to get this right. "I mean—fuck—you saw my search history. You know damn well you're my type."

"So you’re saying: any man with long hair and a fancy tattoo comes in here, and you'd let him fuck you senseless?" Suo said, his voice even. He even smiled a little, but it didn't reach his eye, and the way his hand clenched into a tight fist next to Sakura's hip betrayed his calm facade.

Sakura realized then that Suo was a jealous, possessive motherfucker who wanted to wrap Sakura around his finger and keep him there. And, to his own surprise, Sakura didn't hate the idea. In fact, he kinda liked it—maybe a little too much. The thought made his cheeks burn.

"It wouldn't work," Sakura confessed in with a long suffering sigh, looking away and fidgeting with the hem of his now-soiled shirt. "I tried all those porn videos, and they're never enough because they're not you. That's why I'm here. I think—I think you just want to hear me beg."

"Then beg."

Sakura knew better than to expect anything for free. If he wanted something, he had to earn it. With that thought firm in his mind, he shifted off Suo’s legs, his movements a bit clumsy. For a brief moment, he felt Suo’s fingers tugged at his wrist, a fleeting, almost instinctive gesture, as if Suo were reluctant to let him go. The touch was gone as quickly as it came, leaving Sakura’s skin tingling in its absence.

He didn’t hesitate. Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he pulled it off in one swift motion, the fabric landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. His breath was steady, but his heart raced as he leaned over, rifling through the pocket of his discarded sweatpants. When his fingers closed around the small foil packet, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

Holding it up like a prize, he tossed it toward Suo, who caught it mid-air with effortless grace.

Suo turned the condom over in his hand, his expression neutral as he studied it. After a moment, he glanced up at Sakura, his voice dripping with smugness. "It won't fit."

Sakura snorted, though inside he paled. He'd bought the large size—bigger than average, just to be safe—but apparently, Suo's dick was as towering as the rest of him.

"Don't you fucking brag now," he shot back, though his mind was already racing. “Fine. We can use the lube in it then.”

Suo let out an amused laugh. "You really thought ahead, didn't you?"

Sakura shot him a defiant look, though the flush on his cheeks betrayed his bravado. "You're the one who taught me to always be prepared before a battle."

Suo's eyebrow arched, his smirk deepening. "Is this a battle?"

"If you don't stick your cock in me in the next ten minutes," Sakura retorted, his voice sharp but trembling at the edges, "it's definitely going to be a battle."

“What a braven tongue you have,” Suo laughed again. "This is how you beg?"

Sakura's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he lay back on the bed, his movements slightly clumsy, betraying the nerves he was trying so hard to hide. He planted his feet firmly on the mattress, spreading his legs in a gesture that felt both vulnerable and defiant. His fingers trembled as they brushed against his entrance, feeling it twitch. The touch was teasing yet desperate, as if he were already teetering on the edge.

"Please, Suo-san," Sakura murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, raw and unguarded. "I need to feel you here. Just you."

Something in Suo seemed to snap. He exhaled sharply as he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture uncharacteristically restless. His gaze locked onto Sakura's.

"Good boy," Suo said, his tone almost a growl, rough, the words dripping with unmistakable arousal. His lone eye darkening to a deeper, more dangerous shade of crimson.

He reached for a pillow, sliding it carefully under Sakura's injured leg to support it, then shifted to spread Sakura's other leg wider, making space for himself. His movement was measured, almost clinical, but the heat in his gaze betrayed his calm exterior.

Suo's hand trailed down Sakura's neck before coming to rest on his chest. He splayed his fingers, kneading the flesh there with a firmness that sent shivers racing across Sakura's skin. Goosebumps erupted in the wake of his touch, and Sakura's breath hitched.

“Tomorrow we’ll have Kiryu tattoo you here. It will be a large piece,” Suo said, contemplating. "Hopefully, you can will your heart not to beat so wildly. The movement would make a hell of a job for the tattooer."

"It's because l'm fucking naked right now, and you're pressing your clothed dick against mine," Sakura shot back, flushing as he glared up at Suo.

Suo ignored the comment entirely, his expression thoughtful. "But I would hate that.”

Sakura frowned, confused. “Hate what? My tattoo?”

“No,” Suo said. “Kiryu touching you.”

Another rush of heat crept up Sakura’s neck, his grip on the sheet tightening. Suo was always like this—casually possessive in a way that sent his thoughts spiraling, like Sakura was his to claim.

Still, he refused to let Suo have the last word. “What you gonna do about it anyway? Take a tattoo inking course in three days?”

“Tch.” Suo clicked his tongue in annoyance, his fingers pinching Sakura's nipple in a sharp, reprimanding gesture, which made Sakura yelp. He seemed occupied with Sakura’s chest as if the conversation no longer interested him. But the slight furrow in his brow betrayed his irritation, and Sakura couldn't help the small, triumphant smirk that tugged at his lips.

It was wiped from Sakura's face in an instant, replaced by a sharp intake of breath as Suo bent down without warning, his mouth closing over one of Sakura's nipples. His wet tongue rolled over the sensitive bud before grazing it lightly with his teeth. Sakura's back arched off the bed, a choked gasp escaping his lips. He could feel the tension in Suo's jaw, the way he held back from biting down, from leaving bruises and marking him. The restraint was maddening, and Sakura wasn't sure if he wanted Suo to stop or just give in.

Suo's mouth trailed lower, his tongue tracing a slow, agonizing path down Sakura's torso. His fingers kept exploring and pressing into his fresh—anywhere he could reach—as if mapping him. Every inch of skin he touched felt like it was on fire.

When his hot breath finally ghosted over Sakura’s cock, he knew it was happening. Suo was giving him a blowjob. The idea alone almost made him come right on the spot. Since Suo’s implication after the ceremony, Sakura couldn’t stop his mind from slipping right back into his fantasy of Suo's mouth on him, of Suo taking him apart piece by piece.

Suo's hand wrapped around Sakura's cock, lifting it gently but firmly toward his mouth. His crimson eye never left Sakura's. He licked a slow, torturous stripe from the base to the tip, his tongue swirling under the foreskin in a way that made Sakura jerk violently, his entire body trembling with the shock of pleasure.

"Suo—" Sakura's voice broke, his hands fisting the sheets as he fought to keep himself together. The feeling of someone sucking his dick was too foreign, so much better than his own hands.

Suo seemed encouraged by all the noises Sakura was making. In one fluid motion, he took Sakura fully into his mouth, his lips sealing tight as he swallowed him down to the hilt in one go. Like he had done this a thousand times. Something dark and horrible struck Sakura—a sharp, painful pang of despair at the thought of Suo having to master the skill for someone . But he shoved it down, burying it deep. He needed to live in this moment, they both did.

Suo's mouth was a furnace, hot and wet and impossibly tight, and when he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, Sakura's vision blurred. A strangled moan tore from his throat, his head falling back against the pillow as his hips jerked involuntarily. Suo's hands gripped his thigh and pressed on his stomach, holding him steady, but the rest of him moved with a practiced ease that left Sakura dizzy.

He pulled back slowly, his tongue dragging along the length of Sakura and the tip dug a little into his slit, making his toes curl, before sinking down again, deeper this time until his nose pressed against Sakura’s navel. The rhythm was relentless, each movement calculated to wring every ounce of pleasure from Sakura's body. His lips stretched around Sakura's girth, his throat working as he took him in again and again, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room.

Sakura's fingers found their way into Suo's hair, tangling in the soft strands. How many times he had dreamed of touched his silky hair like this? It felt nice, really nice.

He took hold of Suo’s head when the sensation was getting too much. though he didn't dare push or pull. He didn't need to. Suo was in control, and the way he worked Sakura's body was nothing short of devastating. Sakura’s thighs trembled, his entire body colled tight like a spring, teetering on the edge of release.

"Ah—Suo—" Sakura's voice broke, the word catching in his throat as his fingers tightened in Suo's hair, a desperate warning. "Fuck. Stop. I'm close."

Suo pulled back with a low growl, his crimson eye blazing like a predator denied its prey. There was something feral in his expression, a raw, unbridled intensity that sent a shiver down Sakura's spine.

Then Suo's voice cut through the silence, sharp. "On your hands and knees."

The words were an order, and Sakura was nothing if not obedient. He moved quickly, his body responding before his mind could fully process the command. The shift in position left him feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that only Suo could make him feel, but he didn’t care.

Suo's hands gripped Sakura's hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he took his place behind him. He pressed a hand down the curve of Sakura’s back until it arched further and his face pressed into the pillow. Sakura's breath came in shallow gasps, his body trembling with anticipation and a flicker of nervousness. He could feel Suo's gaze on him, heavy and intent, and it made his skin prickle with heat.

"Relax," Suo murmured, his voice low and steady, a command wrapped in velvet.

His hands slid down Sakura's thighs, spreading them wider, and Sakura shivered at the exposure, at the way Suo's touch burned as he grabbed handfuls of his buttocks. Sakura groaned.

Sakura heard some rustling before he felt Suo’s hot breath on his ass. He did bite this time though, sinking his teeth down the plump flesh not hard enough to break skin but with enough pressure to make Sakura squirm and gasp. Apparently no one could see the bite marks on this private part of his, and Suo was leaving plenty of those. He was such a menace.

A yelp Sakura emitted when Suo's mouth was on his hole was nothing short of scandalous. Hot and wet, his tongue traced a slow line along the crack of Sakura's ass, heat coiling violently in his stomach at the strange sensation.

Sakura's cursed, his fingers clutching at the sheets as a low moan escaped him. This was beyond anything he could imagine. Suo was pressing his tongue against Sakura's hole insistently, teasing and coaxing until Sakura's body began to yield.

"Ah—Wait—" Sakura gasped.

But Suo’s tongue only delved deeper until the tip got pass the furls and breached the tight ring of muscle. Sakura’s body jolted instinctively, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as his hips jerked forward. Suo’s hands were holding him firmly in place. His fingers dug into his hips, hard enough to bruise his flesh and grounding him, refusing to let him pull away even as the sensation overwhelmed him.

Suo's tongue swirled around his hole and worked him open with a precision that left Sakura trembling, every flick and stroke sending waves of pleasure through him. The wet heat of Suo's mouth was relentless as he closed his lips around Sakura’s hole and sucked hard while his tongue kept thrusting in and fucking him. He hummed deep in his chest, like he was savoring every sound Sakura made. And he was making plenty of them-soft whimpers, breathless gasps, and the occasional broken moan that he couldn't suppress no matter how hard he tried.

"You're so responsive," Suo said, his voice muffled against Sakura's skin, puffs of air making his hole twitch violently. "I could eat you out all night."

The thought alone was enough to make Sakura's head spin, his body arching back into Suo's mouth. Suo didn't stop, his tongue swirling deeper, licking his walls and exploring every inch where he could reach, until Sakura was writhing beneath him, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

When Suo finally pulled away, Sakura gasped as he felt the loss acutely, like a physical ache, his body trembling with need. But before he could protest, Suo's fingers replaced his tongue, slick and cool against his overheated skin.

Sakura hadn't even noticed when Suo had opened the condom for lube—apparently too lost in the haze of pleasure with Suo's tongue deep in his ass.

The first slide of Suo's finger was smooth, eased by the lube, but the stretch was unfamiliar, and Sakura gasped, his body instinctively tensing. He almost flinched away, but Suo's free hand settled on his hip, grounding him.

"Relax," Suo murmured, his voice low and steady. He worked his second finger into Sakura in shallow thrusts, giving Sakura time to adjust. "You’re too tight. Have you done this before?"

“This is my first time," Sakura admitted, breathless. He was feeling weird, tingling. Like Suo had found a hidden bundle of nerves deep inside him, and every brush of his fingers sent sparks racing along Sakura's spine. He spread his fingers wider to stretch his entrance thoroughly before thrusting deep to rub again and again on that nub that made Sakura’s eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

"Good. I'm glad,” Suo said. And Sakura could hear the smile in his voice.

He felt Suo shift behind him, the weight of his body pressing closer, and then he felt it. Suo’s cock. Pressed against his crack.

Sakura couldn't help himself. He twisted his body slightly, craning his neck to take in the sight of Suo. The man looked like a god, his presence commanding and almost otherworldly.

Suo's hair was raked back by his hand, strands of it cascading over his shoulders like dark silk. The yukata he wore had slipped down to his elbows, pooling around his arms and leaving his chest and torso fully exposed. At this point, Sakura wondered why Suo even bothered keeping it on-it hung off him like an afterthought, doing nothing to conceal the lines of his body.

Suo's tattoo was on full display, the intricate inked fox winding across his skin like a living thing, and Sakura felt his breath catch. He swore he didn't drool—not much, anyway—but he couldn't tear his eyes away. And then his gaze dropped lower, to where Suo's length stood fully exposed, hard and flushed, the sight of it stealing the air from Sakura's lungs.

It was huge. Sakura’s wasn’t small himself, but Suo’s cock was even quite bigger. Thick and perfectly shaped, the veins running along its length like rivers carved into marble. The tip glistened faintly, evidence of Suo's own arousal, and Sakura felt a shiver run through him at the thought of how it would feel inside him. Suo's cock was a testament to his dominance, his power, and Sakura couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and desire as he stared, his mouth going dry.

“Like what you see?” Suo asked, smirking down at him.

“Yes,” Sakura breathed out. He was stubborn and born to be contrary most of the time, but he couldn’t deny that—that he liked it, very much.

Suo laughed and slapped one of his buttocks in a playful smack. “Such a puppy.”

Sakura huffed at yet another nickname and then moaned deep in his chest as Suo kneaded his ass and spread his crack open again.

“Ready?” Suo said, his voice low and rough. It sounded more like a command than a question.

Sakura nodded instantly. He was ready, for like, twenty minutes ago.

“Bear with me,” was the last words Suo warned him before he guided his cock to Sakura’s entrance, nudging a little before pushing in.

The first press of Suo's cock into him was slow and careful, yet the stretch was burning in the most exquisite way. Sakura's breath hitched, his body instinctively tensing before forcing itself to relax under Suo's penetration. Suo's hands clamped down on his hips, holding him steady as he pushed forward, inch by agonizing inch until the head slipped in, until Sakura felt like he was being split open.

"Fuck," Sakura choked out, his voice trembling, raw and broken. “Suo—it hurts.”

“Breathe,” Suo whispered, his voice also strained. Now he had stilled completely, his hands gentle as they traced soothing circles on Sakura’s hips. “Take your time. I promise it’ll feel better, Sakura.”

Sakura nodded, his vision blurred with unshed tears. He focused on Suo’s voice, grounding himself in the sound of it, and drew in a shaky breath. Then another. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, the sharp edges of discomfort softening as he willed himself to relax. Suo’s touch was patient, unhurried, and Sakura clung to that steadiness like a lifeline.

When the stretch finally became familiar, when his body began to adjust, Sakura let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The sensation shifted, the discomfort giving way to something warmer, something that made his pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with pain.

“There you go,” Suo murmured, his voice low and approving. “Good boy.”

Suo nudged in again when Sakura’s body yielded enough to take him further. The fullness was intense, the heat of Suo's body searing into him, branding him from the inside out. He could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of Suo's cock as it stretched him wide, and it was driving him out of his mind.

Suo didn't stop until he was fully sheathed, his hips flush against Sakura's ass. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with tension and the sound of their ragged breathing. Then Suo leaned down, his lips brushing against the nape of Sakura's neck, just below the brand. His breath was hot against Sakura's skin as he murmured, "You're taking me so well, Sakura-kun."

He grabbed one of Sakura’s hands under his on the mattress as he pulled out a little before pushing back into his body. His thrusts were slow at first, almost tentative, giving Sakura time to adjust. Only when his moans turned from discomfort to pleasure that Suo got his speed up a little, his hips snapping harder, deeper, the force of it driving the air from Sakura's lungs. Somehow, the wound on his thigh didn’t feel as bad as it had been, the euphoria was enough to dull it into a simmering twinge.

Suo had found a rhythm, and when he shifted a little, just enough to find the perfect angle, each thrust hitting that spot inside Sakura that made his toes curl and his vision blur.

"Ah—fuck—Don’t stop," Sakura pleaded, as pleasure ripped through him. “Your cock feels good.”

“It’s where it belongs, Sakura-kun,” Suo whispered next to his ear, his voice husky. “You’re feeling good too. So good around my cock.”

Suo's cock pistoned into him, hard and unrelenting, each stroke driving him closer to the edge. The slap of skin against skin echoed in the room, a filthy counterpoint to Sakura's ragged moans.

He could feel the heat building inside him, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust, every brush of Suo's cock against that sensitive bundle of nerves. His body was trembling, his mind a haze of sensation, and he didn't know how much more he could take.

Suo sat up straight again so his hands tightened on Sakura’s hips, his grip almost bruising as he pounded into Sakura with a ferocity that left no room for thought, only feeling. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound swallowed by Sakura's gasps and the low, guttural noises Suo made with every thrust. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and Sakura could do nothing but hold on, his fingers clawing at the sheets as Suo drove him toward the edge.

As their movements grew more frantic, their bodies slick with sweat and trembling with the strain of holding back, Suo’s arms wrapped around Sakura’s waist, pulling him up from all fours into a kneeling position. Sakura’s back pressed flush against Suo’s chest, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. Suo’s breath was hot against Sakura’s ear as he held him close.

One hand slid up to cradle Sakura’s chin, tilting his head back until their faces were inches apart. Sakura’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as Suo’s lips hovered so close to his own. For a delirious moment, Sakura thought—no, he hoped—that Suo might kiss him. The idea sent a jolt of heat through him, mingling with the overwhelming pleasure already coiling tight in his gut.

But before he could process the thought, the climax hit him like a tidal wave, sudden and all-consuming. A strangled cry tore from his throat, and without thinking, he bit down on Suo’s hand. Not enough to draw blood, but enough stifle the sound. Suo groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through Sakura’s body as he pressed his face into the crook of Sakura’s neck. His hips stuttered, and Sakura felt Suo’s release inside him, hot as blood. The sensation sent another shuddering wave of pleasure through his already overstimulated body.

For a moment, they stayed like that, locked together, their breaths ragged and their hearts racing in unison. Sakura’s mind was a haze of euphoria and exhaustion, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. Suo’s arms remained around him, grounding him, and Sakura leaned into the embrace, too spent to care about anything but the warmth of Suo’s body against his own.

———

“Why are you smiling?”

Later, when they lay side by side, after Suo had cleaned them up, what a gentleman he was.

He lay sprawled on his back, limps heavy and mind blissfully blank, when he glanced over and saw Suo propped on his side, watching him with a smile. The kind of soft smile that sent a flutter through Sakura’s stomach.

“It was my first time, you know,” Suo said, almost too casually.

What first time? Rimming? Surely not.

“What?” Sakura asked, blinking and dumbfounded.

“It was my first time sticking my dick inside someone,” Suo said. He even did that air quotes just to mock Sakura’s earlier desperation to lose his virginity.

“No way,” Sakura blurted, scandalized. His brain refused to follow through with the concept.

Suo—an Oyabun. Not to mention, he looked so fine, which was an understatement. He was outright handsome and charming to a fault. Sakura guessed if he wanted, practically everyone—men, women—would be dying to be in his bed.

“Yes way,” Suo said before rolling to lie on his back, his hands coming to rest on his still bare stomach. He looked content. “So I’m happy I made you feel good.”

Sakura's face burned. Good? Was he joking? It had been incredible, earth-shattering, something Sakura would replay in his mind for weeks. He couldn’t believe it was his first time. Someone must have a natural talent in the arts of fucking. Sakura wasn't sure whether to feel jealous or grateful—though, given the circumstances, he leaned heavily toward the latter.

"So... you're gay?" Sakura blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Pftt—“ Suo burst into laughter, the sound rich and warm, though it made Sakura feel like an idiot for asking. "You really thought l'd fuck you out of kindness?"

So do you like me, then? Sakura wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue. Instead, he punched Suo's arm lightly, earning another round of laughter from the man.

"So Togame was right about that," Sakura muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Suo. It was a slip of the tongue, but the damage was done.

The mere mention of the guy made Suo’s smile drop instantly.

“Don’t bring that nuisance up,” he said, though the irritation quickly faded as he settled back into his relaxed posture.

The silence that followed was awkward, at least for Sakura. Suo seemed perfectly content lying there, admiring his ceiling. Sakura, on the other hand, felt out of place. He wanted to cuddle, to curl up against Suo and bask in the afterglow, but Suo gave no indication that he wanted the same.

"I'm, uh—" Sakura stammered, sitting up and scanning the room for his shirt. Where had it ended up? "I'm gonna head back to my room. Good night. And—thank you."

He was halfway off the bed, fumbling for his pants, when Suo’s warm hand closed around his wrist. Sakura turned to meet Suo's gaze. Hopes bubbled in his chest.

“Please stay this time,” Suo said, his eye tender.

There was never a time that Sakura would not stay, not when Suo was asking him like that.

Sakura hesitated, if only to preserve a shred of his price. "Fine," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Suo tugged him back down onto the bed, and Sakura let himself be pulled. Sakura swore the way his heart leapt to his throat had nothing to do with how Suo’s arms wrapped around him into a tight embrace.

Sakura’s fingers traced the single cherry blossom in Suo’s tattoo, his touch light and curious. “Why is there a sakura here?”

It took a long moment for Suo to answer. Sakura wondered if he’d already fallen asleep. But then Suo’s voice came, almost a whisper.

“It was the first thing I truly saw when I set foot in Japan. Seemed fitting to carry it with me.” He reached up, ruffling Sakura’s hair with a tired but affectionate gesture. “Enough questions. Now sleep.”

Sakura’s mind lingered on the answer. Suo’s family must have traveled to Japan in springtime. That would explain it. The image of a younger Suo, wide-eyed and surrounded by blooming cherry trees, flickered in his mind. Must be a sight to behold.

“Oh okay. Should I turn the lights off?” Sakura murmured, his voice muffled against Suo’s chest, warm beneath his cheek.

Suo pulled the blanket over them, his head shaking gently above Sakura’s. “No need,” he said, his voice already slurry and sleepy. “I like sleeping with the lights on.”

Sakura hummed in response, already drifting in the comforting haze of Suo’s presence. His thoughts wandered lazily, a faint curiosity flickering in his mind.

Are you afraid of the dark? But he didn’t ask, content to let the question linger unspoken.

Soon, Suo’s breathing softened, steady and even. So he’d already fallen asleep. Sakura tilted his head up, his gaze tracing the peaceful lines of Suo’s face—relaxed, unguarded, and beautiful in a way that made him move without thinking.

Sakura leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against Suo’s in a quiet, tender goodnight kiss.

———

When Sakura woke the next morning, the space beside him was empty. He stretched lazily, his joints faintly protesting after a night of deep, uninterrupted sleep. As he sat up, his gaze fell on a neatly folded set of clothes placed at the foot of the bed—his own clothes. The realization hit him slowly—Suo must have arranged for the maid to bring them here. A faint blush crept up his cheeks.

He pulled on the clothes and slid off the bed. As he turned, something caught his eye. He froze, staring at an opening in the wall that definitely hadn’t been there the night before. There was no way he could’ve missed something that obvious. Then again, he thought with a shrug, of course Suo would have something like a hidden chamber.

Sakura made his way to the entrance and peeked his head inside. A staircase led down to what appeared to be a vast library, a stark contrast to Suo’s humble bedroom.

The space was striking, with towering bookshelves lining the walls, filled with neatly arranged books, scrolls, and a few scattered trinkets. Soft, warm light from a few scattered lamps bathed the room in a cozy glow.

At the center of the room stood a large desk, its surface cluttered with open books, inkstones, and a half-finished cup of tea. Suo sat nearby on a couch, his posture relaxed but his expression focused as he studied a sheet of paper in his hands. He seemed lost in thought, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the quiet intimacy of the space.

Sakura lingered at the entrance, his voice caught in his throat and his feet rooted to the spot. This was a place of solitude and reflection, a sanctuary where Suo retreated from the chaos of the outside world. Standing there, Sakura felt as though he were intruding on something deeply personal—a rare glimpse into the private world of a man who rarely let anyone in.

“Won’t you come in?” Suo’s question cut through the silence. He didn’t look up, yet still able to sense being watched.

Sakura gulped before stepping down to stairs and made his way to Suo. He fidgeted with his hands as Suo made no move of greeting him, though his eyes glued to what Suo was contemplating deeply.

“This—is this my tattoo?” He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his mouth.

The design was a masterpiece, a sprawling work of art that seemed to come alive on the sheet. At its center was a majestic tiger, its powerful form rendered in bold black and white stripes that rippled with muscle and movement. The tiger’s eyes were striking—one a piercing blue, the other a vibrant yellow, mirroring Sakura’s own heterochromatic gaze. It was as if the creature carried a piece of him within it, fierce and untamed.

Surrounding the tiger was a serene grove of cherry blossom trees, their delicate petals caught in an eternal bloom. The branches stretched gracefully, the blossoms painted in soft shades of pink and white, their edges glowing faintly under the moonlight. The scene was set against the backdrop of a quiet night, the darkness of the sky broken only by the luminous glow of a full moon hovering above. The moon’s pale light bathed the entire design, casting an ethereal glow that tied the elements together—a perfect balance of strength and beauty, wildness and tranquility.

“You drew this yourself?” Sakura asked. The questions kept coming because he was in awe.

Suo glanced up at him, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Of course. I’m a talented Oyabun, don’t you think?”

Talented, indeed, Sakura thought, in everything that you do.

“Still, there’s something missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Suo added, his grin fading as his brows furrowed. “Mind to help?”

Sakura looked at it again, tilting his head. A thought struck him. The design was stunning, but it lacked something that marked its own creator—Suo himself.

“I read about this Japanese art form once,” Sakura began hesitantly, scratching the back of his head. “It’s called Kintsugi. You know, where they repair broken pottery with gold, making the cracks part of its beauty.” He paused, gauging Suo’s reaction before continuing. “What if we added gold streaks to the moon?”

Suo blinked up at him, his lips parting in a soft, surprised O. “That’s brilliant, Sakura-kun,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. “How did you come up with something like that so quickly?”

Sakura blushed, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Gold is your color,” he mumbled, his words stumbling out in a rush. “I thought it’d feel right to have a piece of it on my skin. And—” He hesitated, his voice growing quieter. “You’ve helped fix me in some ways too, so it felt fitting.”

Sakura glanced up to see Suo smiling kindly at him. “It’s decided then.”

Suo reached for a brush, dipping it into a jar of golden paint before carefully adding details to the moon. His movements were art itself.

As Suo put the finishing touches on the design, Sakura’s gaze wandered. A picture frame on the desk caught his eye. It held a photograph of three people—a man and a woman with a small boy standing between them. They were smiling, the waves crashing over their feet in the background. It must have been a happy moment. The boy had dark red hair and bright crimson eyes. Suo.

For a moment, Sakura felt dizzy. His vision blurred, and he staggered slightly before collapsing onto the couch beside Suo.

“Are you alright?” Suo asked, his voice tinged with concern as he set the brush aside and turned to Sakura.

“It’s nothing,” Sakura muttered, waving a hand dismissively, though his head still throbbed faintly. “Just… maybe the cold hasn’t completely gone yet.” He paused, his eyes drifting back to the photo. “Are these your parents?”

Sakura reached out to touch the frame, his fingers brushing the glass. Suo went still beside him.

“Yes,” Suo replied, his voice quiet.

Sakura turned to him, offering a sad smile. “You got your mother’s eyes. I got mine from both of my parents, you know.”

Suo inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the comment.

Sakura didn’t wait for a response. The ache in his chest made him want to confide in Suo all of a sudden.

“You were wrong when you said I didn’t care or look for my parents. I did. I went to the police and begged them to find them. Only my mom showed up.” Something stuck in his throat, but he pushed through.

“At first, I was relieved. I thought I could finally get back something that should’ve been familiar—my family. But when we left the station, she told me she couldn’t keep me. That I didn’t belong to them anymore.” He paused, his voice tightening. “I didn’t understand what she meant back then. I still don’t. And I remember her blue eyes, brimming with tears. She said thousands of apologies that I couldn’t hear through the fog in my head at the thought of rejection again. After that, I never bothered looking again. My parents—after all they are just strangers to me now.”

“Sakura,” Suo whispered, his voice soft as he cradled Sakura’s hand in his. After a long moment, he spoke again. There was deep hatred in his voice. “They’re scum. I’d punch them if we ever crossed paths.” He hesitated, then added, “Maybe they abandoned you because they were in debt. Not that it justifies what they did.”

“I thought about that too,” Sakura admitted, his gaze distant. “She looked—I don’t know how to describe it. Tattered. There were cuts and bruises on her already-gray skin. I tried to follow her, to protect her somehow, but that was also why I let her go. I didn’t want to be another burden.”

“What did you do after that?” Suo asked, tilting his head slightly. His crimson eye held genuine curiosity.

“I became a beggar,” Sakura said, his voice matter-of-fact. “I asked passengers for leftovers and spare coins. It wasn’t much—people barely glanced at me. District 2 was an industrial district; everyone was struggling just to survive. Who had time for empathy, especially for a scrawny brat with weird hair and eyes?” He shrugged, as if the memory no longer stung. “I survived like that for a year or so. It was hard to keep track of time when you’re always on the street.”

Replaying his past didn’t hurt as much as it used to. Maybe now, with a roof over his head, the pain felt like an insignificant memory. Still, a dull ache lingered in his chest, a remnant of something he couldn’t quite shake.

“Then I met Kotoha,” Sakura continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just another street kid like me. She was an angel. Because she was pretty, she could get more food than I could, and she always shared it with me. She was the one who suggested we go to District 5, where everyone was equally poor. She said if we learned to fight properly, we could find work and keep living. I wasn’t a good fighter back then, so it was mostly Kotoha who came to my rescue—until you found me in that alley.”

Suo let out a soft snicker at the confession of weak Sakura, but his expression quickly softened. “She sounds like a wonderful friend. I promised you we’d bring her here when the war’s over, and I intend to keep that promise.”

Sakura turned to look at him, surprised to find himself smiling widely. A swell of hope bloomed in his chest, a vision of a future where they were all safe and by his side. “Thank you, Suo-san.”

———

Sakura nearly jumped when he caught sight of Suo standing near the doorway of Kiryu’s studio, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—but definitely not pleased. His crimson eye locked onto Sakura, the weight of his gaze dark and heavy.

“Why are you here?” Sakura blurted, his voice an octave too high.

Suo’s brows furrowed slightly. “Why shouldn’t I be here?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, something almost territorial.

Sakura scowled, shifting uncomfortably on the tattoo bed. He was shirtless, the inkwork barely started, and the fact that Suo was just standing there—watching him—sent a wave of heat crawling up his neck.

“I’m getting a tattoo. I should be doing this in private. I’m practically half-naked, Suo-san,” he pressed, glaring daggers at his Oyabun, who seemed to have no concept of personal space.

Suo’s jaw tensed. “Don’t tell me you’re acting shy now.” His crimson eye gleamed with unspoken meaning.

Sakura’s stomach twisted. That look—it screamed, After everything we did last night?

His entire body burned. “Shut up.”

“And it’s my design for you,” Suo added flatly. “I need to make sure Kiryu doesn’t mess this up.”

Kiryu, the tattoo artist with pink hair and more piercings than Sakura could count—every inch of his skin covered in ink—hunched over Sakura’s chest with his tattoo machine. He let out a dramatic sigh.

“Honestly, having you watch me work has me trembling in fear, Suo-san,” Kiryu said, half-joking. “You’re not going to slit my throat if I accidentally draw a cat instead of a tiger, are you?”

Suo hummed, his expression still grumpy. “If you draw him into my kitten, maybe I’ll spare you. Just this once.”

Fuck. Sakura didn’t even feel the sting of the needle when it first grazed his skin—his focus was entirely on these two idiots teasing him like he wasn’t even there.

Suo was already looming closer with that unreadable, brooding expression. He took a seat and laid back, watching intently.

And then, Kiryu just had to make it worse.

“Would you like him to get nipple piercings, Suo-san?” Kiryu mused as he carefully inked along Sakura’s chest, his tone light, almost teasing.

Sakura jolted so hard he nearly knocked over the ink tray.

“Why are you asking him? It’s my nipples!” he shrieked, his entire body tensing as mortification flooded his veins.

Kiryu chuckled but didn’t miss a beat with his work. “Well, isn’t it the same thing?”

Sakura had already suffered through enough humiliation today. Between Suo’s grumpy possessiveness, Kiryu’s teasing, and the needle repeatedly stabbing into his skin, he was convinced this tattoo session was designed to kill him—not through pain, but sheer embarrassment.

A sharp click echoed in the room.

Kiryu froze. Sakura, still fuming, glanced up to find Suo sitting there, legs crossed, his hands lazily wiping a handgun with a cloth. Sakura’s bite mark from last night still bruised a little on his fair skin. The weapon gleamed under the light. Suo could be so dramatic.

“Touch him anywhere outside the tattoo area,” Suo murmured, his tone light but edged with warning, “and you’ll become the first handless tattoo artist, Kiryu.”

Kiryu swallowed. “Un—understood, Suo-san.”

The tension in the room thickened, but Sakura, already used to Suo’s antics, groaned and dropped his head back onto the pillow. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

Suo made a satisfied sound, as if the matter was settled. Kiryu, now sweating, focused only on his work, while Sakura resigned himself to his fate.

This damn tattoo session needed to end soon.

The gods must have heard his prayer, because Nirei bursted into the room like a beacon of salvation.

“Suo-san,” the blonde said, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Takiishi’s making his first move. He’ll visit us in three days.”

The room fell silent, the only sound the buzzing of the tattoo machine. Suo stopped cleaning the gun, raised it, and aimed at a random point ahead, testing its weight in his grip. Then he stood and tucked it into his waistband.

“Nirei, come with me to my office. Kiryu, keep working on the tattoo,” Suo ordered, his long strides already carrying him toward the door. He paused, turning to give Sakura one last look. “Sakura, be a good boy until my next order.”

With that, they left the room, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Of course, something like this would happen soon. Takiishi confronting them was inevitable. After this tattoo session, Sakura decided, he’d seek out Suo to discuss their plans for the upcoming battle. He also needed to get his body back into fighting shape—he’d been idle for too long.

“Hey, Kiryu,” Sakura said suddenly. “I know it’s not part of Suo’s design, but can we change one detail?”

Kiryu looked up from his work, curious. Then he grinned cheekily. “Of course we can. I was born to break the rules. What’ve you got in mind?”

“The tiger’s blue eye,” Sakura said, his voice calm. “Change the color. I want the red of Suo’s eyes.”

Chapter Text

When Sakura stepped into Suo’s office, he braced himself for sharp commands, heated strategy, even vehement arguments as tempers rose. What he hadn’t expected was silence—thick and oppressive, pressing down on the room like a held breath.

Papers lay scattered across the long table, maps of District 1 overlapping in chaotic layers, lists of names scrawled in red ink. Surveillance footage flickered across a muted screen in the corner, shadowed figures moving across alleyways and rooftops. If there had been any doubt before, it was gone now—they weren’t just preparing for a confrontation. They were bracing for a siege.

Sakura bowed his head as a greeting before automatically making his way next to Suo. The throbbing pain from Sakura’s fresh tattoo didn’t help as he moved, but he pushed through. They were at war—there was no luxury of rest, no time to heal, especially for a Kobun.

Suo stood at the head of the table, his bracing on the edge. His hair, usually tied with precision, had begun to slip free, unruly strands spilling over his shoulders. Yet his voice was unwavering when he spoke.

“Takiishi will either come for carnage or for territory,” Suo said. “Either way, we’ll greet him in kind.”

Takiishi’s forces outnumbered them nearly three to one. And they weren’t just thugs. Many of his men came from industrial backgrounds—workers and miners hardened by labor—their raw strength was undeniable. If Takiishi initiated an all-out bloodbath in three days, Suo and the Hayato-gumi needed a flawless strategy to outmaneuver him. At the very least, they had the advantage of familiar ground, and Suo intended to use that to its fullest.

Suo gaze shifted from the map he was studying to Umemiya. “Umemiya-san, you and Suigishita will secure the mansion’s perimeter. Set up patrol stations, keep rotations tight. I want hourly reports. If a single one of Takiishi’s men gets within breathing distance, I want to know.”

Umemiya gave a firm nod, his usual friendly nature now buried beneath a razor-sharp focus. There would be no hesitation on his part. Sakura knew he was already moving in his mind, placing his men, tightening their defenses.

Suo turned next to Nirei, whose fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes locked onto the screen before him.

“I want full surveillance across all five districts, with District 1 as the priority. If this visit is a smokescreen for something bigger, we catch it before it unfolds.”

“I’ve already started,” Nirei muttered, not bothering to look up. “Every available camera is being rerouted for our use. I’ll have real-time tracking up soon. If Takiishi so much as twitches, we’ll know.”

His confidence was earned. Nirei was meticulous and precise, despite his boisterously childish personality. Nirei just had a knack of finding patterns in chaos.

“Sakura.”

The weight of his name pulled him from his thoughts. He had been fixated on the stat sheets, memorizing heights, weights, fighting styles, but at Suo’s call, his grip on the paper tightened.

“You’re in charge of pairing our men against Takiishi’s. Strength alone won’t win this—we need to be smarter, faster. Study their movements, their habits. I want counters ready for every one of them.” A pause. “Most importantly, focus on Takiishi and Endo. They’ll come for me first.”

Sakura nodded once. “They won’t get to you,” he said, without hesitation.

“It’s not just about me,” he said, voice softer now. “They’ll go after our strongest first. This isn’t about standing in front of me—it’s about making sure we don’t fall.”

Sakura knew that. Of course, he did. But knowing didn’t stop the heat that curled low in his chest at the thought of Suo in Takiishi’s crosshairs. His loyalty was instinctive, unshakable, but Suo—Suo was always thinking five steps ahead, always ensuring there was something beyond him.

Suo turned back to the table, fingers gliding across the surface of the map, stopping at the District 1 border.

“I’ll be reinforcing our weak points, especially along the District 1 and District 2 border.” His voice was measured. “That’s the most vulnerable entry if Takiishi’s planning a push for territory.”

Sakura’s eyes followed, absorbing the placements of the pins. But just as Suo reached to fold the map, something caught his attention—

A second set of markings.

Not just District 1.

District 4.

Sakura’s brows furrowed.

District 4 was nothing but slums, no different from District 5—hardly worth a second glance. And yet, Suo had marked it with the same weight as the main battlefield.

Before Sakura could process it, Suo rolled up the map with a decisive snap. “We have three days.” His gaze swept over them, sharp, unwavering. “Use every second.”

Umemiya moved first, already discussing rotations with Suigishita as he strode out of the office. Nirei shut his laptop with a click, his work complete.

Sakura, however, lingered.

What are you planning, Suo?

The thought gnawed at him, and before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth.

“What’s it about District Fo—”

Suo beat him to it. It felt like he had a sixth sense for being watched, a talent for interpreting others when it suited him.

“What’s it, Sakura-kun?” Suo asked, his voice taking on an infuriating lilt. “You need me to rub balm on your tattoo?”

Sakura stiffened. Heat crept up his face.

Suo was smiling at him. A mean, knowing smile.

“You’d rub somewhere else,” Sakura shot back, flipping him off for good measure.

Suo stepped closer. “Why? You don’t want me to?” he asked, all false innocence. “As I recall, you begged very sweetly last night.”

Heat coiled in Sakura’s stomach, pulse hammering at the memory. Fuck his uncontrollable hormones.

“Uh—I gotta go. Read the stats—” He made a sharp move toward the door, but a firm grip on his wrist stopped him.

“Hold on.” Suo’s voice was husky now, the one he used on bed... He leaned in, his breath warm against Sakura’s ear. “Won’t you show me your tattoo? I’ve waited long enough.”

“M—Maybe later,” Sakura stammered, feeling cornered. “We’re in the office—”

“I’m not the kind to wait.”

Before Sakura could protest, Suo’s fingers curled into the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, the fabric dragging over his torso, past his collarbone. The ink stood bold against his skin—dark lines curling over muscle, the fierce tiger’s head its defining feature.

Suo stilled.

“Oh.” A breath, barely more than a whisper. “You changed the tiger’s eye.”

Sakura blinked, thrown. A strange tightness settled in his chest.

“It’s a symbol. Your lost eye is with me now. Do you… hate it?” he asked, his own voice unsteady.

It would break him—if Suo disapproved, even a little, of something that Sakura had held so close to his heart when changing something that imprinted on his body for the rest of his life.

Suo’s gaze lingered, unreadable at first. Then—he smiled. The smile was small, quiet. Sad.

“No,” Suo murmured. “Not one bit. That means a lot to me. Thank you, Sakura.”

When Suo finally looked up and his gaze locked onto Sakura, Sakura’s breath caught. For the first time, Suo looked like he was pleading for something. His single crimson eye, usually so full of mischief or cool calculation, now carried something that was unmistakably sorrow. His brows furrowed, jaw tight, lips parted just slightly, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t.

Sakura didn’t think—he just reacted. His hand lifted on its own, hesitating only for a second before brushing against Suo’s jaw. His thumb skimmed the sharp line of his cheekbone, trying—instinctively—to soothe whatever turmoil inside Suo.

For a heartbeat, Suo leaned into his touch, closer, warm. Close enough that his breath ghosted over Sakura’s chest. His lips parted a little as he moved just a fraction lower, as if he were about to kiss Sakura’s tattoo.

“I forgot the mouse—”

One second, Suo was right in front of him. The next, he was leaning casually against the table, flipping through a sheet of paper like he’d been there the whole time.

The office door swung open and the blonde walked in. Nirei’s gaze flicked between them, eyes narrowing.

“What’s this atmosphere?” he asked, suspicious.

Then, his gaze settled on Sakura fully. Sakura followed it—down to his stomach. His shirt was still rucked up a little, exposing a strip of skin.

His face went up in flames.

With a strangled noise, he yanked his shirt down, shoved past Nirei, and stormed out, leaving behind nothing but the thundering of his own heartbeat.

———

The day of Takiishi’s arrival finally came. The mansion buzzed with restless energy—plans being finalized, weapons checked, last-minute drills sharpening every move. Tension hung in the air, thick and heavy, settling into every corner like an unshakable weight.

In the grand hall, four pillars of the family sat in quiet anticipation, their presence alone a testament to the gravity of the coming encounter. Any moment now, Takiishi would arrive.

What they didn’t expect was Nirei’s voice breaking the silence.

“This isn’t normal,” he said.

For the first time since Sakura had met him, there was no trace of lightheartedness in his voice. Just unmistakable tension.

“All surveillance feeds and Umemiya-san’s team report the same thing,” Nirei continued, fingers flying over his keyboard. “Only Takiishi and Endo are coming.”

That didn’t sit right. Takiishi was a man of brute force, not subtlety. A man who made his presence known by tearing through the front door with an army behind him.

Suo didn’t answer right away. He was still, unnervingly so, his eye cast downward in thought.

They had prepared for war. Hayato-gumi’s members were stationed inside and outside the mansion, in key locations across District 1, bracing for an inevitable battle. Yet instead of a marching force, they got two men. Two men who, on their own, shouldn’t have been a threat.

“If he’s not coming to start a war, then he’s coming to start a different kind of fight,” Suo finally said. When Suo looked up at them, his eye was cold. “Umemiya-san, Nirei, Sakura—you can leave. I’ll greet them myself. There’ll be no immediate threat with just the two of them.”

Umemiya and Nirei exchanged glances but ultimately nodded. They knew better than to argue once Suo had set his mind to something. Without another word, they turned for the door.

Sakura, however, remained seated.

Suo arched a brow at him. “Something wrong?”

“I’m staying,” Sakura said simply.

Suo exhaled through his nose, the ghost of amusement flitting across his face. “Don’t be stubborn, Sakura-kun. Their little jabs at me are nothing new—I can handle them.”

“That’s not the point.” Sakura met Suo’s gaze, unwavering. “I’m your Kobun. Whatever comes, I bear the weight of Hayato-gumi with you.”

That was the truth. But it wasn’t the whole truth.

The real reason sat deeper in his gut, where the memory of the last time Suo had been left alone with them lingered. Sakura still remembered the way Takiishi’s words had slithered into Suo’s past wounds, reopening them with the precision of a blade. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Not if he could stop it.

Suo studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine.”

But then something in his posture shifted. A subtle tension, a flicker of something in his expression before he leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“They know my weaknesses. And they will dig their dirty fingers into my wounds.” His gaze was searching and holding Sakura’s. “Whatever happens, I need you to stay firm. Stay by my side. Can you do that for me, Sakura?”

Sakura swallowed.

What exactly are your weaknesses, Suo? Could you at least tell me that?

But there was no time for questions. No time for doubt. There would be time for that later, in the quiet of the night, in the solace of their rooms—between their world of responsibilities and whatever existed between them outside of it.

For now, he simply nodded. “Yes, boss.”

And he meant it.

———

The grand hall was a tomb of silence, the kind that pressed against the eardrums and made every breath feel like a betrayal of the stillness. Sakura waited for the moment Takiishi stepped inside the hall with his jaw clenched. It was his first time facing a real enemy. He must be ready for anything that would happen to Suo and him.

He felt them before he saw them. Takiishi and Endo’s boots thudded against the polished floor as they made their way inside. They stopped just beyond the threshold, the shoji doors sliding shut behind them with a soft thud that echoed like a gavel.

No entourage. No army. Just the two, their presence a weapon in itself. They dressed in all blacks and every inch of their exposed skin were covered in starkly black ink, the pattern demonic, silver piercings glinting and catching the light.

Endo vibrated with a twisted vibe while Takiishi’s aura was a blade held to the throat—frigid and suffocating.

Across the hall, Suo lounged in his chair, the picture of nonchalance. One leg crossed lazily over the other, but his crimson eye betrayed a glint of steel. Sakura stood a half-step behind him, muscles coiled, his gaze darting between the intruders. Watching. Waiting.

Takiishi’s golden eyes—sharp as a freshly honed razor—swept the room before locking onto Suo. They carried no warmth, no flicker of humanity, only the cold weight of a man who’d come to carve his dominance over his opponents.

“I see you’ve been busy, Hayato,” he said, his voice low and even, each syllable a measured cut. His glance at Sakura as he lingered on those last words.

A sour twist churned in Sakura’s gut. That glance should’ve been nothing—a fleeting shadow—but it sank into him like a thorn, igniting a prickle of unease along his spine.

Suo exhaled through his nose. “You’ll have to be more specific, Takiishi. I do a lot of things.”

Takiishi took a single step forward. As if by instinct, Sakura's hand drifted to the holster at his waistband, fingers ghosting over the grip of his gun.

“You took Tomiyama’s job,” Takiishi got straight to the point. “You rescued Togame.”

Suo held his gaze. “I did.”

No hesitation. No apology. Just a quiet defiance.

Sakura understood it then. This was a real battle between two Oyabun from the most formidable yakuza families. Fighting not with fists or blades but with words sharpened to cut just as deep. A war waged in silence, in the weight of a single breath, in the way Suo refused to yield even an inch.

Takiishi seemed to be familiar with Suo’s bluntness. His tone was flat, devoid of anger or accusation—which made it impossible to gauge his mood. “You shouldn’t have meddled in my affairs. Especially when you know we’re bound by the same leash.”

Suo tilted his head to rest his cheek on his hand. He seemed utterly bored—like he had heard this a thousand times before. Sakura was surprised Suo even took his time to come up with a pretty valid reason for his action against Takiishi.

“Togame’s abduction would’ve left Tomiyama vulnerable. A weak Tomiyama means chaos in the region’s balance.” He waved a hand, dismissive. “I was merely keeping the scales even. Nothing to do with our tender brotherhood, kyodai.”

“Is that your excuse?”

Suo shrugged, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s the truth.”

“The only truth I see is you forcing an alliance with Tomiyama.” Takiishi’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over gold.

“You make it sound so dramatic,” Suo countered, his tone light but edged. “All I did was help a business partner.”

“Is that what you call it? Business partner?” Takiishi’s expression didn’t shift, but his voice roughened, shedding any trace of civility. “The Master doesn’t care for your word play, Hayato. He sees your moves for what they are—rebellion.”

A subtle stillness seized the room. Suo’s fingers, which had been tapping idly against the armrest, froze mid-motion. Something flickered in his posture at the mention of the man.

Yet his smile remained, thin and never reaching his eye. “Is that why you’re here? To cry treason over me saving some random Kobun?”

“Not only that. I came to deliver his message,” Takiishi said. “He hasn’t seen you in a month, and then you surface with a not-so-random Kobun on your own,” His gaze slid to Sakura, piercing him like a blade through flesh.

Suo was silent for a moment too long, and Takiishi continued with each word like a hammer strike. “Too busy rutting with him like a pair of street dogs, I imagine, when you should’ve been serving the Master like the whore you’ve always been.”

Sakura’s body moved before his mind caught up. In a flash, he lunged, boots skidding across the polished table as he closed the distance. His gun was out, the muzzle jammed hard under Takiishi’s chin, forcing his head back.

“Say one more fucking word about my boss like that,” he snarled, voice trembling with fury, “and I’ll blow your brains out.”

Takiishi glared down at him with icy golden eyes and held his gaze for a long moment. And then he reached up, wrapping his hand around Sakura’s grip on the gun. With a slight twist, he pressed the barrel even closer into his flesh, aligning it straight into his skull.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice taunting. “Pull it. What’s a mangy mutt like you going to do anyways?”

Sakura pulled the trigger.

Click.

A sharp hiss cut the air behind Takiishi—Endo, stepping forward, eyes wide. For a split second, Takiishi’s eyes widened, not in fear but in genuine surprise.

“Hah,” Sakura spat, forcing a smirk. “At least now you’ve got an expression, you smug bastard.”

Laughter erupted, harsh and grating, as Endo doubled over.

“Oh, you scaredy-cat didn’t even load it!” he crowed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Drop the tough-guy act—”

Sakura’s free hand whipped behind his back, drawing a knife in one fluid motion. The blade flashed as he pressed it to Takiishi’s throat, replacing the gun, which he swung toward Endo’s still-cackling form. He squeezed the trigger.

A loud, deafening bang split the silence. The bullet grazed Endo’s ear, tearing a chunk of his dangling earring free.

Blood flecked the floor as Endo’s laughter choked off into a stunned curse as he grabbed at his ear. “Fucking cunt—“

“I did load it,” Sakura said, his voice low and venomous. And he was grinning like a mania. “Just not fully. Your Oyabun was just lucky.”

“You son of a bitch—” Endo snarled, hand darting to his own holster. He yanked his gun free, aiming not at Sakura but at Suo, still seated across the room. “Draw one drop of Takiishi-san’s blood, and your precious boss is a dead man.”

Takiishi raised a hand, sharp and commanding. “Stand down, Endo, you rabid cur.”

Endo’s jaw clenched, but he obeyed, the gun dipping reluctantly as Takiishi kept his focus forward.

Slowly, Takiishi leaned back from the knife, just enough to level his gaze with Sakura’s. Then, to Sakura’s shock and utter disgust, the man’s tongue flicked out, dragging a slow, haunting line along the blade’s edge. The piercing on his tongue scraped the metal of the surface as a thin bead of blood welled up, staining the steel.

“You’re intriguing, Sakura-chan,” Takiishi said, a smirk curling his lips. “No wonder he’s so obsessed with you. No matter where you came from, he gotta dig you out and drag you up. A slum? Or might I say? A bridge?”

“A bridge?” Sakura murmured.

That feeling of dizziness welled inside him again. Like when Sakura saw Suo’s childhood frame. He staggered a little until he suddenly felt Suo’s hand on his shoulder, pushing him slightly behind him. He hadn’t even seen him move.

Suo’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze. He held no fake warmth to Takiishi at this point.

“Done delivering your message? If so, get out. You’re overstaying your welcome.”

Takiishi blinked slowly before he straightened, his smirk fading as he regarded Suo with those emotionless eyes again. He spared Sakura one last glance, a predator sizing up prey, before turning on his heel.

“Don’t make me return too soon, little kyodai,” he said without looking back. “This place reeks of weaklings.”

The shoji doors slid shut behind Takiishi and Endo, the soft thud reverberating like a final note in the suffocating silence.

Sakura turned to Suo, expecting the usual— that unshakable calm, the faint smirk that brushed off the world’s chaos like dust from his sleeve. But what he saw stopped him cold.

Suo’s control looked like verging on the edge of collapse. He stood rigid, one hand braced against the table. His face was drained from all colors. For a moment, his gaze drifted—not to Sakura, not to the door, but to some unseen point beyond the walls, distant and unfocused.

“Suo-san?” Sakura’s voice came out tighter than he meant, a thread of worry pulling it taut.

Suo blinked slowly, as if dragging himself back from wherever he’d gone. His lips parted, but the first sound was a faint, fractured exhale—a stutter of breath that caught in his throat before he swallowed it down.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter than usual, “Takiishi could just snap your neck with a flick of his wrist.”

“I know,” Sakura said, steady despite the adrenaline still searing his veins. “But if he killed me, he’d lose his leverage. I saw it in his eyes—how he looked between us. Like I was a mean for him to play you.”

Suo blinked at Sakura’s observation. It seemed to relax Suo a little. His head tilted, and he barked out a laugh, sharp and brittle. He left his grip on the table to crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the table’s edge.

“Well, look at you,” Suo whistled. “When did you get so good at these games?”

Sakura’s heart bloomed with pride. “Let’s say I have the best teacher. All your cryptic bullshit forces me to read between the lines. Gives me a damn headache.”

“And the gun wasn’t randomly loaded, was it?” Suo smirked, amusement flickering inside his eye like a small flame.

“Nah,” Sakura huffed. “I don’t kill without your say-so. Even if I really wanted to at least punch him in the face for being an absolute dick.”

Suo hummed, almost playful. “They didn’t swing first. That’s a new day in my book.”

“So that’s it?” Sakura’s brow furrowed, confusion gnawing at him. Takiishi letting them off with a slap on the wrist didn’t sit right—not after the buildup, not with a man like that. “They came here just for a warning?”

Suo crooked a finger, beckoning him closer. Sakura hesitated only a heartbeat before leaning in, close enough to feel the warmth of Suo’s breath against his ear. The grand hall, still heavy with the echo of Takiishi’s departure, seemed to shrink around them when he was in Suo’s proximity.

“This visit is just a feint. From those last words he said, I think he just wants me to think he’s holding back, that he won’t raise a war. He’s betting I’ll lower my guard.” A pause. “And annoyingly, he might just want to see for himself what kind of relationship you and I are having?”

“What is our relationship?” Sakura asked dumbly. Somehow he was totally forgetting that they had more urgent problems to care about.

Suo chuckled and flicked his forehead like a kid. “Stay focused, Sakura-kun.”

Sakura stared daggers at him.

Suo whispered again, his voice soft but sharp, a blade wrapped in silk. “You remember I said something was stirring in our organization?”

Sakura’s eyes flicked to Suo’s, searching that single crimson gaze. He nodded, the memory of their first days clicking into place—vague hints Suo had dropped about people that wanted to drag him down, even his own men. Now, they loomed like shadows taking shape.

Suo’s lips barely moved, his words a thread meant for Sakura alone.

“Someone in Hayato-gumi has turned. They’re feeding Takiishi our moves, our plans. That’s why Takiishi came here with just Endo but not a full siege.” His eye narrowed, glinting with a cold, controlled fury.

“A traitor?” His voice was a hiss, barely contained. “Who—”

“We don’t know,” Suo cut in, his tone flat. “Not who, not how many. That’s why this stays between us—you, me, Nirei and Umemiya-san.”

Sakura nodded as his stomach twisted uglily, a slow burn of anger igniting beneath his ribs. Men Suo had fought beside, bled with, now slinking in the dark for Takiishi.

“Takiishi’s not a man who plays fair. He’s moving against me soon. Stay alerted and be ready for anything even if we have to fight alone.”

Sakura’s breath caught, a mix of frustration and fear coiling tight. “You’re betting a lot on this.”

“I always do,” Suo said simply. “And you’re my insurance. Stay by me. We root this out together.”

The hall seemed to close in tighter, the air humming with the promise of blood yet to spill. The game had begun—and Hayato-gumi’s heart hung on the edge of a knife.

———

It took Sakura a long time to fall asleep, and when he jolted awake in the middle of the night, he saw a shadow sitting on the chair beside his futon. The moonlight streaming through the window cast just enough glow to reveal that the figure was holding a gun, its surface glinting and reflecting the light.

Sakura held his breath. Without hesitation, his hand slid beneath his pillow. His fingers closed around the handle of the knife.

In a single motion, he twisted out of the futon and lunged—body low, his momentum aimed straight at the figure, his knife raised and twisted sideways.

The chair scraped back sharply as the figure rose at the same time. The gun in their hand didn't fire. Instead, the figure sidestepped smoothly and caught Sakura by the wrist, twisting it just enough to disarm without breaking.

Sakura grunted, swinging his leg up in a swift arc—but the figure moved faster, deflecting him with practiced ease. In one fluid motion, they caught him in a hold and swept him down.

His back hit the futon hard. Before he could recover, he found himself pinned, their weight pressing into his center, thighs bracketing his hips, leaving him caged beneath them.

The cold barrel of a gun pressed against his temple—then paused.

“Easy there, tiger.” The voice was calm, faintly amused—and unmistakably familiar.

Sakura heaved out a long sigh. His eyes adjusted to the dim light—and there it was. That smug, unbothered face.

“You damn brat,” Sakura spat.

Suo put the gun down onto the futon and leaned down until his face was just an inch apart from Sakura’s. His minty breath fanned Sakura’s lips as he chuckled above him. “If I were anyone else, you’d be dead, being that clumsy.”

Sakura’s heart thumped against his ribs, but he scowled and twisted beneath Suo’s hold. Too close. Too warm.

“If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have missed.” Defiant. “I saw your ring flash when I lunged. If I hadn’t, your throat would be wide open.”

Suo gave a low hum, impressed. “Not bad. But next time, check your shadows before you lunge like a feral dog.”

Sakura seethed, “Why the hell are you here?”

“Watching over you,” Suo said. As if that explained everything.

“For how long?”

“About an hour.” Blunt.

Sakura scoffed. “Couldn’t you just simply ask to come in my room instead of lurking like a fucking creep?”

Suo reached beside the futon, grabbed Sakura’s phone, and held it up. “I texted you. You didn’t read it.”

Sakura blinked at the screen. “I mute it when I sleep.”

There was a beat.

“You muted your phone? We’re yakuza, not clerks,” Suo tutted. “Stay alerted. You sleep like a sack of rice.”

“There are guards in the halls,” Sakura muttered, still defensive.

“You trust all of them?”

Silence.

Now that Suo put it like that, the answer was actually no. Though he wouldn’t like to admit Suo had a point.

“I put a chair over the door. If anyone came in, it’d make a noise.”

His head jerked towards the door—and stopped. The chair wasn’t there.

Oh right. Suo had been sitting on it the whole time.

Suo casually looked away, lips pursed like sneaking inside Sakura’s room in the middle of the night was the most natural and innocent thing in the world.

“You—!” Sakura bristled. “How the hell did you even get in?”

“Ah,” Suo scratched his cheek, utterly unbothered. “There’s a passage behind your closet. Connects to my library.”

Sakura stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You built a secret tunnel from your private library… into my room?”

Suo nodded, deadpan. “I’m thoughtful like that.”

“You’re insane.”

“I prefer ‘attentive.’ Besides,” Suo muttered, eye hardening, “I don’t want anyone to know I’m in here with you. If Takiishi really plans to ambush us—”

A vibration rattled on the side table.

Suo turned sharply, reaching for his phone. His fingers brushed the screen, and his brows furrowed immediately.

“Speak of the devil,” he said, voice tight. He rolled off Sakura in one fluid movement and stood. “They’re already here.”

He turned the screen toward Sakura. A grainy live feed from a hidden camera in Suo’s bedroom showed two figures slipping inside like wraiths. Takiishi’s long hair and Endo’s tumble of unruly curls were hard to miss.

Sakura’s breath seized. He hadn’t expected the attack to come so soon. Or so personally.

Without a word, Sakura rose and opened the drawer beside his futon. He grabbed his pistol with practiced speed and chambered a round. Suo already had his gun in hand and beckoned towards the door. Sakura nodded once.

They moved to the door in silence, soles brushing against the floorboards with the silence of trained killers. Sakura pressed his back against the wall beside the door. Suo took the opposite side, his body angled slightly, gun raised.

A pause.

The door creaked open.

Takiishi entered first, gun drawn and close to his body. He moved fast, scanning the room. Endo followed close behind, knife in his hand, and swept to the left—right where Sakura crouched in wait.

They noticed a beat too late.

Suo lunged out first, aiming for Takiishi. He grabbed his wrist and forced the gun away, slamming it against the doorframe. The weapon fired—muffled—but the shot went wild, splintering the corner of the closet.

Takiishi twisted sharply, breaking Suo’s grip with a violent turn of his elbow, then kicked forward. Suo blocked the strike with his forearm and countered with a knee toward Takiishi’s ribs. But Takiishi bent low and hooked Suo’s leg, nearly toppling him over.

Sakura sprang from his cover, driving the butt of his gun toward the back of the man’s neck. In this cramped room, with four bodies clashing and chaos thick in the air, there was a sickening chance that the bullet would land on Suo if he shot now.

Endo ducked low before he could punch him and spun around, catching Sakura’s wrist and dragging him forward. The gun dropped from Sakura’s hand in the scuffle, skidding over the floor.

Sakura knew he was still far from matching Endo’s skill, but in this space—his space—every shadow and sliver of moonlight worked in his favor. The darkness distorted movement, made every shift harder to read, and he could use that unpredictability as leverage.

He growled, slamming Endo into the edge of his desk—pens and papers flying, the lamp toppling with a crash. Without hesitation, Sakura grabbed the lamp’s heavy base and smashed it down on Endo’s wrist with a crack, forcing him to drop the knife. Endo screamed in pain, lunging with his free hand to send a sharp punch at Sakura’s chin. He released his hold over Endo and jumped back just in time to avoid the impact. Endo kicked out quickly and his boot landed on Sakura’s thigh, right on the healing wound, making him hissing and stumbling back further.

Suo had shoved Takiishi back hard onto the closet and knocked the air out of the man, but Takiishi twisted a chair up from the side and flung it. Suo raised his arm to cover his head, the chair crashing against it with a grunt.

Suo tumbled backwards a little until his body collided with Sakura. Sakura rolled instinctively, pressing back against Suo as they found themselves back-to-back in the middle of the cramped space. Their breathing synchronized. Enemies closed in from opposite sides.

“Push back,” Suo muttered, hooking his arms with Sakura’s.

Sakura ducked low and shoved backward, grounding himself as Suo used the leverage to launch a rapid flurry of kicks at Takiishi. Despite the pain from Endo’s last kick on his thigh, Sakura dug his heels into the floor, anchoring them both, then shifted his weight just enough for Suo to drive a final, jarring kick into the side of Takiishi’s head. As Takiishi staggered, Suo broke away, advancing swiftly—just as the man recovered and lunged to meet him head-on.

Sakura turned just in time to see Endo reaching for a gun nearby on the floor. Just as Endo looked up and raised the barrel towards him, Sakura’s hand shot out to snatch the coat hanger next to him and gave a neat swipe with it until its base hit Endo’s head. A loud bang echoed as the bullet tore through the air and luckily just grazed Sakura’s shoulder.

Endo’s body collapsed onto the floor instantly after the impact. Sakura was on him immediately. He mounted him, fists flying—right hook, left hook, elbow until Endo no longer struggled, his breath rattling out on the floor like loose coins.

Sakura hovered over him, his own breath shallow, body heavy with fatigue. Blood oozed slowly from the raw gash on his shoulder, but he barely registered it. His focus had already shifted—to the corner of the room where Suo still wrestled with Takiishi.

Suo’s movements were sharp, but so was Takiishi’s. They clashed like two predators, teeth bared, and Sakura knew Suo couldn’t afford a distraction.

He took the gun from Endo’s grip and pushed himself forward, every step aching but steady. Just as he raised his pistol again to help Suo, something in the corner of his eye pulled him back—movement.

Sakura froze.

Endo.

The bastard wasn’t out cold completely. Barely breathing, but Endo’s fingers twitched with intent. And then, with sudden speed, one hand jerked to his waistband.

There was a glint—moonlight catching a hidden blade. Endo raised it and aimed. Not at Sakura, but Suo’s back.

Sakura didn’t think. He launched forward, intercepting the lunge. His arm whipped out, knocking the blade off its path—but not without consequence. A stinging pain tore across his forearm. Sharp. Searing. The knife sliced through flesh before he could redirect it fully.

But it missed Suo. And that was enough.

Gritting his teeth, Sakura stepped in and smashed the butt of his gun into Endo’s temple. The man’s body jerked—then finally dropped for good.

He turned and made his way towards Suo again, but something felt wrong. It bloomed slowly, crawling from the cut on his arm like fire through dry leaves. A heat that sank deeper than the blade ever reached and course shooting pain across every fiber of his body. Before he knew it, his knees buckled and hit the ground with a sickening thud.

His chest burned. His pulse beat too loud in his ears. Why was it so loud? And his vision flickered. He blinked hard, but the moonlight blurred, dragging shadows into smears of grey.

“Suo,” he tried to say, but it came out barely a breath.

Through his blurred vision, he saw Suo turned at Sakura’s call of his name. Something horrible etched onto his features.

Suo twisted the gun down towards Takiishi’s legs. The sound of a gunshot crack and Takiishi’s curse filled the room but it only felt distant through the white noise in Sakura ears.

Then hands—familiar, firm—grabbing him before Sakura could hit the ground fully.

Suo. And Sakura couldn’t feel his warmth.

All he could feel was the searing agony in his body. His mouth felt dry. His lungs tighter with each breath. His fingers, weak and trembling, curled into Suo’s shirt—clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring Sakura to the world.

Suo’s voice. Loud. Sharp. Frantic. It was the first time Sakura had ever heard him like this.

“Sakura—fuck—stay with me.”

From somewhere behind, Takiishi’s laugh slithered through the dark, hoarse and broken by pain, but laced with sick satisfaction.

“Endo’s knife was always poisonous. And guess just who created it. Tsubaki-chan. Such a fierce lady. Umemiya would miss her dearly if she’d be dead, don’t you think?” He wheezed, every word dipped in cruelty. “We didn’t come here blind, boy. Ten minutes max. That’s all your precious Sakura-kun has—just enough time for us to have a proper talk, my little kyodai.”

“Name your price,” Suo spat, his eye burning red and feral.

“You should already know,” Takiishi said slowly. “Territory. The Master must have been so deep in the gutter of his sick desires for you to actually give you District 1. Now it’s time for him to open his eyes and admit that it should have been mine all along.”

Suo’s arms tightened around him, desperate, as if he could hold the life in. Sakura looked up, vision flickering, his eyes dull and glassy, and shook his head.

If Suo gave Takiishi District 1 now, it would be the end of Hayato-gumi. They would lose everything, maybe even their lives. Sakura thought back of the old lady at that tiny iyakaza who had cooked him his first real meal, so warm it had made his hands sting. He thought of Nirei’s ever joyful expression, and Umemiya-san’s patient voice. Strangely, he even thought of the situationship he had formed with Sugishita over those past few months, now feeling all funny and bizarre to him.

“Suo—don’t—“ Sakura choked on his words. His breathing was getting shallower with each second ticking by.

Suo smiled down at him sadly and whispered to him, “It’ll be alright.”

How can any of this be alright?

Sakura buried his face into Suo’s chest, his body crumpled. Even if he couldn’t feel Suo’s warmth, he could hear his heartbeat very clearly—loud and the steadiest thing in his life. If he had to die—he’d rather have this heartbeat be the last thing he knew.

“If you want territory,” Suo said above him, voice trembling with rage, “I’ll give you District 4.”

A pause.

Takiishi didn’t speak at first. Then, with palpable disdain, “I don’t want a fucking slum, you dimwit.”

“It’s not a slum anymore.” Suo’s voice was rising—he was clearly reaching the threshold of his patience. “I discovered sustainable resource veins under it. Minerals. Oil. Enough to boost your entire industrial district. And having two separated districts also gives you more borders with neighboring areas—you could expand your hold twice over. Maybe your dense head didn’t think that far, so I’m spelling it out.”

His voice dropped suddenly, cold and lethal, as he raised his gun and aimed it towards Takiishi. “Now give me the damn antidote. If he dies, you die. We all lose.”

The moment stretched into eternity, the weight of the poison dragging Sakura deeper into the void with every second. Takiishi remained maddeningly silent. Then, at last, the man sneered—his voice laced with venom.

“You’ve sunk too low, Suo. Throwing everything away for a half-broken, desperate weakling. That’s why you’ll never truly be one of us. One of the Yakuza.”

Cold and final. “It’s a deal then.”

Sakura mutely felt Suo’s body relax instantly at the answer. In the distance, he heard Takiishi bark an order. Sakura turned his head just as the door creaked open again, and a blinding light sent spots across his already fading vision as someone turned on the lights.

A figure stepped in. His head was bowed. He rushed towards Suo and Sakura with wobble legs before kneeling next to them.

Sakura looked up, blinking slowly to make out the face. It was Anzai—and he was crying. Big, messy tears streamed down his cheeks, his eyes swollen and red. He must’ve been crying for a long time, waiting helplessly outside the door while his Oyabun and Kobun—his supposed family—were being hunted down.

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry,” he choked out between hiccups. “They took my childhood friend. I—I couldn’t just let him die. I’m sorry, Sakura-chan. I’m so sorry.”

As he spoke, he pulled a small tube from his pocket and handed it to Suo, who accepted it with deadly calmness.

Suo wasted no time uncapping the tube and gently tilted it, letting the liquid slip past Sakura’s dry lips. Each swallow was a struggle, his body aching with every movement. But as Suo raised the gun toward Anzai’s terrified face, Sakura summoned what little strength remained, his hand weakly gripping Suo’s wrist to stop him.

He had trained countless times with Anzai before. Anzai had always been a kind companion—a friend. Sakura also had a close friend that he always wanted to protect. Kotoha. Anzai was just like him, but with his own Kotoha taken. Would he make the same choice to save her? The answer came easily, without hesitation.

“Don’t—“ He said as his grip tightened around Suo’s wrist. “Please.”

Suo’s gaze abandoned Anzai to look at him. His jaw clenched as a storm of emotions flickered in his eye. A thousand unspoken words hung between them. For a long moment, their eyes locked, and then, with a deep breath, he lowered his gun.

“Get the fuck out of my sight. Drag Endo and all your disloyal dogs with you,” Suo spat.

And that was the last thing Sakura heard before darkness finally took him.

———

Sakura stirred awake, his mind sluggish, body heavy as he shifted his limbs. His eyes snapped open when his hand brushed something warm and solid beside him.

Suo. His eyes darted around. Suo’s room… Right. His room must have been a bloody mess from last night.

“Have you ever seen a tiger wake up at noon, Sakura-kun?” Suo’s voice teasing but gentle, his gaze still fixed on the magazine cradled in his hands, too engrossed in the glossy pages. It was a pet magazine.

Sakura didn’t respond. He was busy staring. Suo was leaning against the headboard, the magazine resting lightly in his hands, its pages rustling faintly as he turned them.

The morning sun spilled through the open window, bathing him in a warm, golden glow that traced the sharp lines of his jaw and softened the edges of his usually unyielding presence. A gentle breeze slipped in, stirring the loose strands of his hair, cascading over his shoulders in soft waves that danced with the light.

Suo looked ethereally beautiful next to him, like a figure carved from some fleeting dream—too serene, too perfect for the blood-stained world they lived in. In that moment, Sakura realized Suo was made for this: not the chaos of knives and guns, but the stillness of peace, where the weight of their lives could fall away, if only for a breath.

“Should we adopt a pet?” Suo broke the silence, clearly unfazed by Sakura’s stillness. “Are you a dog or cat person, Sakura-kun? Or should we get both? Maybe a hamster too.”

“You’re being too greedy,” Sakura rasped, voice rough from disuse.

“So I can’t have it all?” Suo turned and looked at Sakura this time.

An ache welled in Sakura’s chest. “You’re an Oyabun. You can have anything,” he muttered.

Suo set the magazine on the bedside table, hands folding over his stomach as he stared into the distance. “Let me tell you something, Sakura-kun. Someday I’ll leave this all behind,” he said, voice soft yet wistful. A beat. “If I survive that long. You must have tons of questions about District 4 now, don’t you?”

Sakura nodded slowly. “Yeah. I didn’t know you had your eye on it.”

“Well, yes,” Suo hummed. “No one knows except Hiragi-san.”

Sakura stayed quiet, giving Suo space to unfold his thoughts at his own pace.

“I never wanted this life—being a yakuza, let alone an Oyabun. A few years back, I wandered off, searching for a place to retreat after settling my score with the Master. Districts 1, 2, and 3 were too loud, too chaotic for me. So I chose the slum—District 4. Back then, it was untouched: barren earth, no sea borders, ignored by everyone. It felt like the perfect hideaway.”

Yes, it was, Sakura thought, imagining Suo making tea in a quiet, peaceful life.

Suo continued after a moment. “That’s where I met Hiragi and Kaji, brothers from a struggling family with too many mouths to feed. Kaji was skin and bones, trembling from hunger. All I had was a lollipop, so I gave it to him. That night, I returned with more food. In gratitude, Hiragi offered to work for me, and when Kaji came of age, he followed his brother into Hayato-gumi.”

Suo paused, his gaze distant. “When I had saved enough, I went back to District 4. With help from Hiragi’s brother Sako, who handled surveillance, we built community homes for the homeless and schools. Then, at one of our sites, we struck a mineral vein. It’ll be a thriving district soon—but its protector will shape its people’s fate. My plan was to leave District 1 to Nirei and District 4 to Hiragi. Now that we lost District 4, though, we’ve got to rethink things.”

All because of saving me, Sakura thought.

“It’s not your fault, Sakura-kun. Don’t dwell on it,” Suo said gently, as if peering into his mind. He looked at him for a long moment before adding. “My solace comes in a form of a person, not a place.”

Sometimes it took a lot of brains to understand what Suo was saying. “What does that mean?”

“It’s just a random quote,” Suo chuckled, waving a hand dismissively.

“By whom. The Almighty Suo? Who just made it up?” Sakura snorted.

Suo laughed heartily. The sound made Sakura’s inside warm and fuzzy.

It’ll be alright. Suo’s words from the night before echoed in Sakura’s head.

“We’ll get District 4 back,” Sakura said, a sudden confidence rising in him—maybe wishful thinking could turn real.

“We will,” Suo replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “For now, this stays between us. Hayato-gumi doesn’t need the panic of knowing Takiishi has more leverage now—or that there are still traitors among us. Especially my link to Sako. He’ll be our spy and help us reclaim District 4.”

“Roger. I won’t tell a soul,” Sakura said firmly.

“Alright. Now rest up,” Suo said, reaching out to ruffle Sakura’s hair. “I’m heading out to see Sako briefly before handing the district over to Takiishi.”

“You’re meeting Takiishi?” Sakura shot up, ignoring the instant wave of dizziness. “I’m coming with you.”

Suo pressed him back down with a gentle but firm hand. “You just clawed your way back from death and can barely stand. Hiragi and Kaji are with me—Takiishi won’t start anything on unfamiliar ground. Lie down, or I’ll call Sugishita to tackle you.”

“Ugh—he’d knock me out cold if given a chance. Fine, go!” Sakura grumbled exasperatedly, flopping back and squeezing his eyes shut in mock sleep.

“Be a good boy, and tonight I’ll reward you with some fun—stress relief included,” Suo teased, his voice hovering above.

Fun? Stress relief?

“You—you’d better keep your words,” Sakura stuttered, eyes still clamped shut—he knew opening them and seeing Suo now would make him feel horny.

Suo laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Sakura’s face heated, and he chalked it up to the poison still simmering in his veins.

———

Sakura stepped out of the cab onto the muddy driveway. Now that his legs had regained some strength, he’d decided to use his free time to visit Kotoha first thing. Takiishi’s habit of targeting enemies’ families and friends gnawed at him, fueling an urgent need to check on her—and, honestly, he just missed her.

It felt like ages since he last set foot in District 5. The road to the inn where he once worked felt like a faded dream. Garbage bags piled in corners, the stench from clogged drains fouling the air—everything seemed foreign and stifling. Yet one thing that he remembered very clearly and cut through it all: Kotoha’s sharp, ringing voice echoing down the street.

“What do you mean Sakura almost died, onii?” Kotoha’s tone spiked, thick with fury. “You said he’d be protected—”

Her words, laced with panic and referencing last night’s chaos, spurred Sakura into a sprint. He bolted up the road and flung the inn’s door open with a loud bang.

Kotoha spun at the noise, her jaw dropping in shock.

But Sakura’s gaze locked onto someone else—

“Umemiya-san?”

*****

Side story:

The buzz of the tattoo machine faded as Kiryu leaned back, wiping ink-stained fingers on a cloth. Overhead bulbs cast streaks of silver and gold across Sakura’s bare chest, where a half-finished tiger glared at the ceiling, one eye still an empty outline.

“You’re a statue, Sakura-chan. Most newbies squirm like eels halfway through.”

They’d been at it for nearly four hours, broken only by brief pauses for water and the occasional rice balls Kiryu tossed his way like he was feeding a stray cat.

“Branding ritual was worse,” Sakura grumbled. He had gotten used to it after the first two hours of needlework. The pain now only a dull on his skin. “Just stiff from lying still so long.”

“That’s good to hear. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but—” Kiryu leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Suo bawled his eye out when he took his first tattoo.”

“You’re kidding,” Sakura said. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

“I’m not kidding,” Kiryu whispered. “It was a chest piece, just like yours. You’ve seen it, right? The fox chasing a cherry blossom. He lost it when I inked the flower. Full-on ugly crying. Didn’t know what to do back then. We had to stop the session. Guess it was too much for an eighteen-year-old.”

Chapter Text

Five years ago

Spring in District 2 was a slap in the face. Cherry blossoms drifting down like whispers of hope, only to drown in the muck of cracked pavement and filthy gutters. Sakura didn’t care about them. His eyes were stuck on the ground, his skinny body hunched, hands shaking as he reached out toward passing boots, each rejection carving deeper into his hollow chest.

“Spare something,” he muttered, voice rough, barely cutting through the noise—carts rattling, hawkers yelling, his stomach growling louder than all of it.

He had lost track of how long he had been out here. Days, weeks—they blurred when you were starving. The world was just a mess of dirty shoes and people who didn’t give a damn.

Then, a shadow paused. Soft footsteps cut through the rhythm of dismissal. Sakura tensed, expecting a trick.

“Here,” a girl said, her voice clear and warm, like it didn’t belong in this hellhole.

She knelt, pressing half a dorayaki, wrapped in wax paper, into his cracked, filthy hands. It was warm, the sweet smell of red bean paste hitting him hard. His mouth watered, hunger clawing so fiercely he forgot to acknowledge her existence.

Sakura tore into it, crumbs sticking to his chapped lips, the soft dough and thick filling overwhelming him. It was gone in seconds, but for once, his stomach shut up. His eyes welled up at just how good it tasted and lingered in his mouth.

He looked up at her then, his weird two-colored eyes squinting against the sun. She looked out of place, too clean, too kind, like she’d wandered in from somewhere better.

“Thanks,” Sakura croaked, his throat tight, voice barely working.

“I’m Kotoha,” she said, plopping down cross-legged on the curb next to him, like it was no big deal. “You?”

“Sakura.” The word felt heavy, like giving her his name was giving her a piece of himself.

“That’s a girl’s name, huh?” Kotoha grinned, her honey-colored eyes bright, her brown hair catching the light. She didn’t fit here, too soft for the streets, and it made Sakura’s chest ache with envy and awe.

“How long you been out here?” she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet. Sakura’s eyes flicked to the other half of the dorayaki in her hands, his stomach already greedy again. “Haven’t seen you around this spot.”

He shrugged, wiping crumbs off his chin, voice low. “Dunno. Been moving around. Wherever, I guess.” He didn’t know how to explain the aimless days, the constant hunger, the loneliness that stuck to him like grime.

Kotoha leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Mind if I tag along?” she asked, a small smile tugging her lips. The question was bold yet soft, like she understood the weight of what she was asking—a street kid offering trust in a world that punished it.

Sakura blinked, thrown off. Street kids didn’t just pair up. They clung to the strong, the brutal, those who could fend off danger. He was none of those things.

“Why?” he asked, suspicious, but a tiny part of him hoped she meant it.

“Dunno. Men scare me, but you don’t seem like you’d hurt anyone,” she said, half-teasing, but her fingers twitched, like there was truth behind it. “You’re basically a stick.”

“And you don’t look like you belong to the streets. You’re literally a catch,” Sakura shot back, the words slipping out before he could stop them, a spark of defiance to mask his disbelief.

Kotoha laughed, the sound sharp and bright, like it could push back the grimness of their world. It was a rare sound in this brutal world, and Sakura couldn’t help but grin, warmth spreading through him like the dorayaki’s fleeting comfort. The moment faded, silence settling back, heavy but softer now.

Then she did something crazy. She pushed her half of the dorayaki into his hands. Sakura froze, staring like she’d lost it. Food was everything out here—you didn’t give it away, not the whole thing. Not like that.

“Just eat it,” Kotoha said, her hands closing around his, warm and steady. “You look like you need it more. I’m not starving, and I can always scrounge up something later.”

Sakura’s eyes stung. The first dorayaki half had been enough to stave off his hunger, but this one was something else, a spark of friendship taking root. He gobbled down the piece, and felt a pull to know her, the girl who’d given him more than food.

“What got you out here?” he asked, voice quiet, almost afraid to break the spell.

“An earthquake,” Kotoha said, her voice so soft it barely carried. “It swallowed my village, my family—everything.” Her fingers clutched the hem of her thin coat, knuckles blanching. “The house collapsed. I saw them—crushed right in front of my eyes. Someone yanked me from the rubble just as the walls gave.”

The dorayaki’s sweetness turned to ash in Sakura’s mouth, the last bite lodging in his throat like stone.

“That was tough. And here I thought being ditched by my mother was rough enough,” he muttered, eyes dropping to the gritty road, kicking a loose stone that skittered away. The words felt small, inadequate against the weight of her loss, but they were all he had.

“Wanna share your story?” Kotoha asked, her voice gentle, nudging a rock with her shoe, rolling it back and forth. There was no pressure, just an invitation, a quiet space for him to unravel.

“Not much to say,” Sakura mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground. “Woke up by a riverbank, half-dead. Didn’t remember much so I got cops track down my family, friends, someone at all. My mother showed up, then bailed. Said she couldn’t take me back, saying we were dirt poor and had debts to pay. I—“

His voice cracked, bitterness seeping through. That day kept replaying in his head like a broken record. Maybe because it was the only memory he got in his mind, the sole fragment of a world he couldn’t piece together, leaving him grasping at shadows for something—or someone—to fill the void.

Sakura faltered, words slipping away like his mother had. “Didn’t wanna be another burden. Another debt. So I let her go.”

The words still hurt, even now. Kotoha didn’t speak, her silence a heavy, comforting weight, as if she understood the shape of his pain without needing to name it.

The sky deepened from orange to navy, the world quieting around them as they sat on the grimy curb, two lost souls tethered by shared scars and uncertain futures.

“Getting hungry,” Kotoha said finally, standing and brushing off her pants. “Let’s hunt down another dorayaki. And tomorrow morning, let’s go explore and find us some jobs.”

He didn’t say it then, but he thought it: Maybe life wouldn’t suck so much with her around. Kotoha was more than a street kid, more than a stranger—she was the first person who had reached out to him, and that dorayaki was a promise. He would follow her anywhere, blind to the secrets she carried, or how they’d break him years later.

———

“Umemiya-san?”

The name tore from Sakura’s throat, raw and jagged, like a wound ripped open.

Umemiya shouldn’t be here. He belonged in his garden, or in Suo’s office, or scolding Suigishita for how he acted around Sakura. Anywhere but here—here, where his presence cracked through everything Sakura thought he had known. This place was his past, buried and sacred, a secret he had only ever shared with Kotoha.

Kotoha. His best friend. The girl who had shared his hunger, his pain, who had survived an earthquake that stole her family. She had never mentioned a brother. Never hinted at anyone left to claim her.

And yet, the man sitting before him—perched awkwardly on a chair too small for his towering frame—was none other than Umemiya. His blue eyes widened in surprise, his jaw tightening in a way that told Sakura he had stumbled into something he wasn’t supposed to see.

Sakura’s gaze snapped to Kotoha, behind the counter, frozen, her lips trembling as words failed her. Her silence screamed betrayal.

The air choked him, heavy with unspoken truths. Inside Sakura’s skull, a storm roared—memories of Kotoha’s laughter, her warmth, crashing against the cold dread of doubt. Were they ever real?

“Onii—?” His voice cracked, barely a whisper, as he clung to the doorway, legs too heavy to move. They were strangers now—Kotoha, Umemiya, faces he thought he knew, now warped by secrets. “Umemiya-san is your brother?”

“Sakura, it’s not—I—“ Kotoha’s voice shook, a desperate edge cutting through. Her lips parted and closed soundlessly, as if the words had fled before they could reach her.

Her silence was a blade. When Kotoha couldn’t find her voice, Sakura’s rose in her place.

“Fuck—just—fucking answer me.” Sakura snarled, sharp and furious, slicing through the quiet.

“Sakura, listen—” Umemiya’s familiar warmth was gone, replaced by something sharp and unyielding. He must have felt the rage simmering under Sakura’s skin, the threat of it ready to erupt. Rising from the too-small chair, he stepped forward, quietly placing himself between Kotoha and Sakura like a shield.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Umemiya said, his tone cold, edged with steel, “and we’ll talk. Properly.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Sakura knew that. It was a trade—unspoken but heavy—compliance for answers.

Sakura’s jaw locked, his fists clenched so tight his nails drew blood, each sting fueling the fire in his chest. He stalked to the rusted wooden table at the room’s heart, its scarred surface a grim stage for this farce of a conversation.

Umemiya sat across from him, gesturing for Kotoha to join. She hesitated, fidgeting with her apron—a nervous tick she always had when men confronted her. Once, Sakura thought it was genuine. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

She sat beside Umemiya, eyes wary, tears glistening like fragile accusations. Guilt flickered in Sakura’s gut, seeing her so small, so shaken. But it couldn’t douse the inferno of betrayal roaring inside him.

“How are you feeling? You were just poisoned—you should be resting—” Umemiya started, but Sakura cut him off, voice like a whip.

“Cut the bullshit. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” he snapped, venom dripping from every word. “And lucky, apparently—lucky enough to stumble in and catch your sneaky little secret.”

His voice turned harsh, accusatory. Each syllable a dagger aimed at Kotoha “What is this? Some kind of sick joke? Or are you just the world’s biggest liar, Kotoha? You’ve got a family, don’t you? All this time, you fed me sob stories about being alone—was that just to make me pity you?”

“Calm down, Sakura,” Umemiya warned, his voice low, a storm brewing beneath.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sakura shot back, his voice spiking with fury, eyes blazing as they locked on Kotoha. “Stop feeding me lies or half-truths—fucking tell me. Now.”

Umemiya’s gaze shifted to Kotoha. She looked like a ghost, lips trembling, but she gave a shaky nod, as if surrendering to the truth.

“You’ve heard about the earthquake that hit Kotoha’s—” Umemiya paused, careful, “—our village. I was there. I saw her house collapse. I barely pulled her out before it all came down. We were the only ones who made it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sakura sneered. He didn’t know he could be a viciously sarcastic asshole when shit like this happened. “Funny, I never heard about another survivor.”

Umemiya’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t bite. He took a deep breath, pressing on, voice quiet but heavy.

“After that, we stuck together. Took in other kids—orphans, the abandoned, the forgotten. We built a gang from nothing. It grew into a Yakuza family. We kept it clean—protection, trade, debt recovery. Never touched the darker side. Like how Suo’s been running Hayato-gumi.”

Suo’s name sparked a fleeting warmth in Sakura’s chest, a lifeline amid the chaos. When this nightmare with Kotoha and Umemiya was over, he would run back to their mansion, to Suo, his only defense against a world that kept cutting him open, where just standing in Suo’s shadow would soothe the raw, searing sting of betrayal.

The thought calmed him a little, just enough to keep him still and hear what Umemiya had to ravel without lashing out. He had to hold himself together the way Suo always did, the way a Kobun should to uphold the face of his Oyabun.

Umemiya’s voice dropped, heavy with memory. “Territory disputes between yakuza families happen all the time. But about five years ago, our family was targeted by Keel—a group that lived off taking and torturing their victims—even their own members. They didn’t come after us for land or money. They took Kotoha just for the thrill of it.”

His jaw clenched, the words strained. “They put her up for auction. Not for profit, not for ransom—just to watch an Oyabun suffer, knowing his sister was being sold off like property. They made sure I couldn’t reach her. In the underworld, you don’t get into those auctions just by flashing money—you have to be invited. That’s how they keep it controlled. They only let in people they know are desperate enough, depraved enough, to pay anything that satisfies their twisted desires.”

Umemiya’s eyes darkened, a shadow of anguish crossing his face. “And there were men who wanted nothing more than to prey on the underaged—girls, boys, especially an Oyabun’s sister.”

Sakura’s breath hitched, nausea twisting his gut. He knew exactly the kind of monster Umemiya was talking about.

“Someone bought her in the first round,” Umemiya whispered, voice breaking. “Over a hundred billion yen. The highest bid ever for a person. She was gone in an instant.”

He paused, and for a moment, the weight of memory seemed to press down on him. “I thought my world ended right there. I was certain she’d be broken—scarred for life after what they’d do to her. But that night—someone knocked on my door.” His blue eyes softened, raw with relief. “And it was Kotoha. The buyer let her go without asking for anything in return. And she never told me who—only that she’d been asked to keep it secret. A truth so dangerous, it could destroy them both if it ever came to light.”

Sakura’s mind reeled, disbelief and confusion colliding. Someone paid over a hundred billion yen—just to let her walk free? No demands, no strings?

“After that incident,” Umemiya continued, “I retired from being a Kobun. Went into hiding, lived anonymously. All I wanted was to keep Kotoha safe, to make sure nothing like that could ever happen to her again.”

Sakura’s eyes flicked to Kotoha. She still hadn’t spoken a word. Her fingers were curled tightly on the table, knuckles white.

“Then, one day,” Umemiya said, his gaze distant, “she told me she was leaving the house. Said it was her first mission—her way of repaying the one who’d saved her. They were looking for someone they could trust, someone who could protect a certain boy.”

Umemiya turned to look at him then. “And that boy was you, Sakura.”

Sakura froze. The heat in his chest turned cold, spreading through his limbs like ice. His mouth opened, but no words came. Of all the things he expected, this wasn’t it.

Why? Who? A thousand questions churned in his head. Someone had been watching him—tracking, guarding him all this time, cloaked in lies. But all those questions blurred into the background, drowned out by the one thought that hit hardest and refused to leave.

He turned to Kotoha, her tears falling now. Her brown eyes brimmed with fear and guilt, and it broke something inside him.

“So you never saw me as a friend, just a—a mission?” The words tore from his throat like splinters, sharp and bitter.

And now Kotoha found her voice—barely. Somehow, she even had the audacity to look terrified at his accusation.

“No—Sakura-chan, it’s not like that—” Her voice cracked, trembling and desperate. “The mission was necessary, but our friendship is real. Please, don’t—”

Sakura shut his eyes, his throat tightening. He didn’t want to hear another word. Not from her. He couldn’t believe any of it—not when everything felt like a lie.

“You were the only person I trusted,” he said, voice low and cutting. “I told you everything—my dreams, my fears—and you filed it all away like data? Just more information to pass along? What part of you was even real? The lightning phobia? The fear of men getting too close? We worked at an inn, Kotoha—how the hell did you handle that if any of it was true? Next time, try a lie that’s at least believable.”

Kotoha stood frozen, tears carving silent tracks down her cheeks—until her gaze snapped up. Not grief. Not sorrow. But fury, scorching through the last of her restraint until every suppressed emotion erupted at once.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kotoha’s voice shattered the air like broken glass.

“Everything I told you was true. Don’t you dare twist it now. Do you really think I wanted this? Five years of choking on this secret—watching you trust me while I hated myself more every day?” Her chest heaved, nails digging bloody crescents into her palms. “I wanted to drop the mission so many times. I wanted to be just your goddamn friend. But I couldn’t. We have to protect you from the Master—”

“The Master?” Sakura echoed, stunned. The word didn’t make sense. Not in this context. “What the hell does the Master have to do with me?”

Kotoha froze, hands flying to her mouth, eyes wide with realization. She hadn’t meant to say that. There was more, something bigger, something she was terrified to reveal. And the look on her face—horror, dread—told him everything.

“Who sent you?” Sakura demanded, his voice slicing through the air. “Who’s been watching me all this time?”

“Sakura, I—I can’t,” Kotoha whispered, shaking her head and avoiding his gaze. “I’m not allowed—”

“If you were ever my friend,” he said, his words heavy with hurt, “even for a second—tell me.”

Umemiya stood, reaching across the table, his hand covering Sakura’s. The gesture felt empty, a hollow comfort.

“Sakura, it’s not our story to tell,” he said, his voice thick with regret.

Something snapped inside him.

There was only one other person who knew about this inn. The only one with access to surveillance feeds across all five districts. He should have realized it the second he saw Umemiya standing here.

The one person who had ties to every single one of them. The one who had looked him in the eyes back then and said—

“Work for me, and you’ll earn enough to help your friend Kotoha.”

Sakura’s chair scraped back, the sound harsh against the floor. He stood, heart pounding, betrayal burning through him like wildfire. Without a word, he turned and stormed out of the inn, the weight of their lies chasing him into the dark.

———

Suo.

Betrayal. Betrayal. Betrayal.

The word pounded through Sakura’s skull like a war drum—louder with every step, heavier with every breath. It didn’t let up. Not until the door in front of him clicked open.

“Well, well. To what do I owe the honor?”

Togame looked far too pleased for someone facing down an angry storm of a man at his doorstep. But then again, maybe he’d been expecting this. Maybe he’d known Sakura would come.

Sakura hadn’t even bothered with pleasantries—just shot a brief text for the address, then stormed over straight from the inn. If anyone had the answers—the ones no one else could or would give—it was Togame.

“What is Suo to me?” Sakura demanded the moment Togame’s lazy green eyes locked onto his.

Togame stared at him, that ever-present smirk still tugging faintly at his lips. But this time, it felt different—strained, like even he wasn’t enjoying this as much as he usually would.

“It’s cold out here,” he said at last, stepping back into the warmth of his home. “Come in.”

He didn’t glance back. He didn’t need to. He knew Sakura would follow.

For someone with the title of Kobun, Togame’s house was surprisingly modest—less opulent, more grounded than Sakura had imagined. But it felt lived-in. Cozy, even. The hallway walls were lined with photo frames, mostly of Togame and Tomiyama. From chubby-cheeked toddlers to teenage punks to the towering Togame still looming over a barely-grown Tomiyama—it was a quiet, visual story of years spent side by side.

He led Sakura into the kitchen, gesturing wordlessly to a stool by the counter. Sakura sat, stiff and coiled tight, every nerve buzzing with the things he couldn’t say yet. Togame, unhurried, moved to the kettle.

“Tea or coffee?” he asked with maddening calm.

“Uh—tea,” Sakura muttered. He hadn’t come for drinks. This wasn’t a tea party.

“Wrong answer. It’s coffee.” Togame snorted, clearly pleased with himself, even if Sakura’s face turned judging at his poor attempt at jokes.

“Stop messing around,” Sakura snapped, his voice a little too loud.

“Shhh.” Togame hushed him, placing the mugs down gently. “You’ll wake Choji. He’s upstairs and sleeps like a cat—light and cranky if disturbed.”

Sakura blinked. “Wait—he lives here with you?”

Togame shot him a baffled look, like Sakura was the dumbest man on earth. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” Sakura mumbled, scratching his cheek. “Didn’t think Oyabun and Kobun living together was such a common thing.”

“No clue what the rest of them do,” Togame said with a shrug. “But couples? Yeah, we do that.”

“You—wait. You two are a couple?” Sakura stammered, eyes wide.

Togame barked out a laugh. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

Sakura’s cheeks flared pink. “I just thought—maybe—you had your eye on me—with all the teasing and stuff.”

“Aww,” Togame cooed. “Aren’t you adorable? But I’m not the one who have their eye on you.” He leaned in slightly, grin widening. “Suo is. Literally.”

Something ugly coiled in Sakura’s chest at the mere mention of that name. Sensing his shift, Togame tilted his head, eyes narrowing in quiet scrutiny.

“You came to talk about Suo, didn’t you?” Togame drawled, his voice flat but his gaze penetrating.

Sakura’s thoughts were a mess. Tangled and tearing at the seams. He didn’t even know where to start.

“It’s not just about Suo,” he said finally. “It’s about me. I found out someone’s been keeping tabs on me for years—long before I joined Hayato-gumi. That someone was Suo. Why?”

“And you think I’m the guy with the answer to that?” Togame mused, lazily swirling his coffee. “Why not ask Suo himself?”

“Because he won’t tell me.” The words cut sharply. “Every time I try to get close—try to get him to open up—it’s like there’s always something he’s holding back.”

Togame was quiet, so Sakura pressed harder.

“You’ve acted like you knew pieces of me from the start. This—this is the talk you kept hinting at, isn’t it? Then say it.”

Togame’s lips pressed into a line. For once, he looked conflicted. Caught between keeping Suo’s secrets and telling the truth.

“Don’t you think maybe—he’s keeping things from you to protect you?” he asked quietly after a long beat.

“Protect. Protect.” Sakura’s fists clenched against the counter. “You all say that like it’s noble. But this is my life. Don’t I have the right to know what’s been done to it?”

Togame sighed, cheek resting in his hand, tone resigned.

“Hm. That’s fair,” he said. A click of the tongue. “Alright.”

Sakura watched him. Waited. His fingers drummed impatiently.

Togame took his damn time with another sip.

“I don’t know everything. But I’ll tell you what I do. Consider it repayment—for getting me out of Takiishi’s cage.”

It was just a mission, Sakura told himself, but kept the thought to himself. He wasn’t here to draw lines between work and personal. If he wanted to get anything out of Togame, this might be his best chance.

“Then you better spill everything. No half-truths,” Sakura grumbled.

A sly smile curled at the edge of Togame’s mouth. “Just don’t tell Suo I told you. He’ll probably rip my tongue out and feed it to cats. Drama queen, that one. I did promise him not to tell a soul.”

Sakura gave a reluctant nod. He didn’t like the idea of Suo finding out he had come to Togame of all people to talk about their issues either. The man would feel just as betrayed as Sakura did now.

Togame leaned back, his voice taking on a casual, almost nostalgic lilt. “Suo and I went to the same martial arts school, way back. Not the same class—he leaned defense, I leaned offense. We first clashed during a match between classes. No winner came out of it, but from then on, we kept clashing. Rivalry, you know? The fun kind, at least from my part.” He chuckled softly, clearly amused by the memory of their younger days.

“Suo was so damn stone cold back then. Barely emote—like a walking corpse wrapped in dull gray and endless turtlenecks. I wanted to crack that facade, so I kept teasing him for always wearing them, even in sweltering heat. Said he must’ve had scabies or something.”

Sakura shot him a sharp glare. He couldn’t stand douchebags who made fun of others for how they looked. He’d been on the receiving end of that kind of cruelty more times than he could count—thanks to his two-toned hair and mismatched eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was a shitty thoughtless brat. But while everyone else laughed and joined the jokes, calling him all kind of nasty things, Suo just walked past me and said, ‘I don’t have time for vermin like you.’ He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.”

Togame paused to take another sip of his coffee, his next words laced with actual contemplation. “Didn’t get why he acted so high and mighty back then. And then we found out he was under the Master’s wings. Everything just made sense. The guy had the world handed to him on a silver platter—or so we thought. People said Suo was the man’s favorite son.”

Sakura’s stomach twisted. So that was how others saw it—like some noble tale of a powerful man adopting a gifted orphan and raising him with privilege. But they didn’t know. None of them knew the kind of hell Suo had survived behind closed doors.

Even now, despite his frustration—his anger at being monitored all these years—Sakura couldn’t stop that dull ache in his chest. That quiet, painful empathy, as if he was feeling something that had always been his to carry.

Togame’s voice softened, the usual playfulness fading into something quieter—more grounded. There was a rare seriousness in the gleam of his normally unfocused eyes, and maybe even a flicker of guilt.

“Then one day, I showed up late to the showers after a long training session. Suo was already in there.” He paused. “That’s when I saw them—bruises. Dark, ugly ones, all over his body. And they weren’t from sparring. Not with the way they looked.”

Something twisted painfully in Sakura’s chest. He didn’t need to guess—he knew exactly what had caused those bruises.

“Suo’s got this sixth sense for when someone’s watching him, you know?” Togame went on, his voice quieter now. “He caught me staring. Covered up real fast and walked out. But as he passed me, I said I wouldn’t tell anyone. He just said, ‘Thanks.’”

Togame gave a small, almost guilty smile. “After that—he started playing along. Whenever I teased him about the scabies, he’d scratch his neck like it was true. Cracked me up every time. Weird way for things to start, but that was the beginning of something between us. A kind of friendship, I guess.”

Sakura knew it. They were indeed friends—or at least used to. They both had their teasing manners that got under his skin, but in their own twisted ways. Though to be utterly honest, Sakura found Suo’s oddly charming. No reason. Just because.

“I kept ribbing him all the time. He took it in stride like he was used to being the butt of the joke. Sometimes he’d even crack a smile and say, ‘That’s all you got? I’ve got it worse.’ The guy never lost his cool. Until one day.”

Togame’s tone dropped lower and laced with unease as he spoke.

“We were at a vending machine. I’d forgotten my wallet, and he offered to cover me. The machine was being stubborn, kept spitting the bill out. In the middle of the struggle, he dropped his wallet. I picked it up and noticed a photo inside—of a little boy. Didn’t look anything like Suo, so I figured it wasn’t a sibling.”

Sakura’s thoughts flashed to that quiet moment when Suo had told him about the boy he used to like. His heartbeat quickened.

Togame let out a short breath, voice low with guilt. “So, like a total idiot, I cracked a joke. Said he had a thing for minors. Thought I was being funny.”

Sakura’s eyes sharpened. “That was a fucked-up thing to say, you asshole.”

Togame held up both hands in surrender, his expression tight with regret.

“I know. Believe me, I know. It was a low blow—I was a dumb teenager trying to get a reaction.” He exhaled slowly, then continued, “But that was the first time I saw Suo actually angry. Not annoyed. Not cold. Furious.”

Togame pulled the corner of his lips back slightly, just enough for Sakura to see some of his teeth were false with how the colors slightly different.

“He punched me so hard, I lost three teeth. It wasn’t like the hits he used in matches—this one had real weight, real fury. If he had just aimed just a little lower, toward my throat—he could’ve killed me. And after that—” His voice trailed off, quieter now. “He never spoke to me again. Left the school not long after.”

Sakura’s jaw tightened, but a small, almost smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right.”

Togame rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I earned it. But you know what the weirdest part was?”

Sakura leaned in, instinctively bracing himself.

Togame’s voice dropped to a near whisper.

“The kid in the photo—had black and white hair. One blue eye. One gold. Sounds familiar?”

Each and every word sent ice rushing through Sakura’s veins.

“That was me—” he started, voice barely audible, as if talking to himself.

But before he could finish, a sudden knock sounded at the front door.

Sakura flinched, heart lurching to his throat. He and Togame exchanged a glance, neither moving. Then the knocking turned to pounding—impatient, angry, loud enough to rattle the frame.

“Fuck—Choya’s gonna be pissed,” Togame muttered, pushing off his stool and heading toward the entry.

He never made it.

A thunderous bang exploded through the air, followed by Togame’s voice echoing down the hall in a string of curses.

“Jesus—are you fucking nuts?!”

Sakura bolted from his seat, sprinting out of the kitchen, chest tight with unease.

And there he was.

Framed in the doorway, gun still in hand, his eye glowing with a murderous red glint. His presence alone was a death sentence, radiating a chilling intensity that could stop a heart with a single glance.

Suo stepped inside, and instinctively, Sakura took a step back. His pulse quickened, the air around him growing heavier with the tension in Suo’s every movement. Suo paused, standing just behind Togame, who was still processing the fact that his door had been obliterated so casually. Suo placed a hand on Togame’s shoulder, a quiet authority in his touch.

“Why don’t you leave him to me?” Suo’s voice was calm, but his eye remained locked on Sakura.

Togame gave out a long suffering sigh, pinching his nose in clear exasperation. “Alright, he’s all yours. You fucking lovebirds need to stop ruining my peaceful Friday night with all your roundabout drama.”

Sakura shot Togame a glare, but his attention snapped back to Suo almost instantly. Every nerve in his body tightened with warning—don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe the wrong way. Not when Suo looked like that.

When Suo finally stopped in front of him, Sakura had never felt so small. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really, and yet under the weight of Suo’s towering presence and that burning crimson gaze—shifting with too many emotions to name—he felt utterly exposed. Like Suo could see straight through him.

“Let’s go home, Sakura-kun,” Suo said, voice flat, stripped of all warmth.

Sakura hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself appear bigger, stronger. He raised his chin and met Suo’s eye, defiantly. “I don’t want to.”

Suo’s jaw tightened. His lips curled downward unhappily.

“I said. Go. Home.”

Sakura swallowed hard. The command struck something deep, leaving him frozen. He didn’t resist when Suo grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of Togame’s house, toward the car parking outside.

A vicious wind lashed across Sakura’s face, snapping him out of his haze like a slap. Fury surged up through his chest, white-hot and choking. He tore his wrist free from Suo’s iron grip, shoving him back a step.

“Let me go.”

Suo didn’t budge. His grip just tightened again, fingers digging in like steel. “No. You’re coming with me.”

“For what?” Sakura barked, his voice cracking with heat. “A talk?”

His anger boiled over, spilling past his throat in a shout. “I don’t need that anymore! Togame told me everything. Everything.”

His breaths were ragged now, shoulders trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer force of what he had been holding in for too long.

“You’ve had a crush on me since god knows when,” he spat. “Tracking me like some obsessed stalker. Sending a fucking bird to spy on me, and calling it friendship? You’re fucking out of your mind.”

He stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides, his voice low but venomous. “You’re not my Oyabun right now. You’re just a fucking creep.”

Suo’s eye blazed with a fury that barely masked the strain beneath it. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it might snap, veins taut along his neck.

“Fuck, Sakura,” he growled, voice low and shaking with restrained rage. “Can you shut the hell up for one goddamn second and just listen to me?”

Each word hit like a whipcrack, sharp and unforgiving—his patience, long gone.

“Oh, now you want me to shut up?” Sakura spat, his voice cracking with fury. “Just like you’ve been shutting me out this whole damn time? Dropping crumbs of the truth like I’m too stupid to handle the rest?”

His chest heaved, like words were cutting him raw, but he continued, barely able to keep it in anymore. “You controlled everything I know, everything I see while you watched me like some experiment—and—and used me like—”

“I didn’t use you.” Suo’s voice was sharp, a blade struck against his chest. “I protected you.”

“Bullshit,” Sakura practically screamed now. “You don’t get to call it protection when you were the one holding the leash.”

The air between them felt suffocating—thick with everything unsaid and everything said too late.

Suo opened his mouth, then closed it, jaw tightening like he was biting down on everything he couldn’t put into words. And Sakura knew it was all over. Everything and anything between them.

He turned on his heel, moving away from the man he had long been aching feelings for—feelings he’d only dared to recognize when everything was already crumbling.

But before he could take another step, Suo yanked him back by the collar and kissed him—hard.

It wasn’t the kiss Sakura had imagined in his restless, secret longing. There was no gentleness—just heat and bruising force. It was desperate and furious, a collision of anger and pain, all teeth and pressure, stealing the air from his lungs and leaving his lips burning from the impact.

The instant Suo’s tongue brushed his lips, Sakura shoved him back with all the strength he had. His heart clenched painfully, fury and confusion bleeding into every breath.

“What the fuck—now you’re stealing my first kiss too?” His voice cracked as it rose, fury barely masking the pain. “Haven’t you twisted things enough? Haven’t you taken enough from me?”

Suo raised his fist to his lips, glancing sideways, looking utterly out of his elements. It was as if he couldn’t quite believe he had just kissed Sakura either, like the act itself had been pure instinct and shattered something even he hadn’t expected.

Finally claiming back his composure, Suo let his gaze lock on Sakura’s, his single eye holding regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, voice rough. “I thought it was the only way to make you stop and hear me out. And—it wasn’t your first kiss. You kissed me that night after we had sex, when you thought I was asleep.”

Sakura’s gut twisted, memories crashing over him—intimate, unspoken moment he thought were secret. He hadn’t known Suo was awake then, knowing the feelings Sakura had buried deep. Now, Suo was weaponizing them, mocking him with every calculated word.

Sakura turned his head, denying Suo the sight of his face, his eyes stinging.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you. We’ve got nothing to talk about.” His voice cracked, quivering with the force of his anger, but beneath that, there was something sharper—something raw, like a wound still fresh. “Not anymore.”

“Haruka.”

The way Suo whispered his given name, wrapped in such devastating tenderness, gripped Sakura’s heart, leaving him painfully exposed. It had been so long since anyone had called him that. The last time had been his mother, her voice trembling with haunting apologies as she faded away, leaving only the echo of his name behind.

“There’s everything to say,” Suo said, reaching a hand toward Sakura again—only to freeze halfway, his fingers curling into a trembling fist before dropping limply to his side. “Starting with how I’m in love with you.”

———

Side story (as a makeup for yet another cliffhanger lol):

“What are you watching?” Togame asked as he stepped into the bedroom, not bothering with fixing the broken door. No one would have guts to intrude their house either. Maybe except Suo. The fucking nuisance.

Apparently, all the commotion had roused Tomiyama. He was now standing by the window, gazing out with sharp focus.

“Just some cats rutting and fighting,” Tomiyama muttered. He was clearly annoyed at being woken up, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Togame crossed the room in three long strides, joining him. Normal alley cats wouldn’t have caught Tomiyama’s attention like this.

Ah.

Under the flickering streetlamp, on the curb, Sakura and Suo were clearly going at it—arguing. Their voices weren’t loud enough to rouse the neighborhood, but with the way hands were flying, drama was unmistakably unfolding—and then Suo kissed Sakura.

Hard. To shut him up.

Togame blinked. “Well, that’s not very Suo of him.”

Tomiyama didn’t respond at first. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you hit on Sakura downstairs?”

The question came so far out of left field Togame laughed. “I wouldn’t dare that.”

Tomiyama gave him a look.

“Jealous, cutie?”

A light punch landed in Togame’s stomach.

“Not really,” Tomiyama said. But his gaze drifted back to where Sakura still stood frozen, staring after Suo. “He’s kind of interesting. Maybe we should invite him over for a sleepover next time. Could be fun.”

“Suo’s going to kill us,” Togame drawled.

“That’s if he survives Sakura after tonight.”

With that, Tomiyama gave the curtain a sharp tug, shutting it. Then he turned and jumped onto Togame.

“Carry me to bed. I’m sleepy,” he half-mumbled, half-yawned.

“I’m spoiling you rotten,” Togame chuckled, scooping him up with ease and carrying him toward the bed.

He dropped him onto the mattress—springy and soft—only for Tomiyama to grab his collar and yank him down on top.

“As if you don’t love every second of it.”

02:14
Togame: We saw you two K-I-S-S on the street
02:17
Suo: And then F-U-C-K on the bed. Want the play-by-play?
02:17
Togame: Ewww
Togame: I took a photo. Wanna print it for your wallet also?
03:48
Suo: Shut up you creep.
03:48
Togame: Took you ninety minutes to come up with that?
03:48
Suo: We were busy with round two.
03:49
Togame: Shut up you pervert

Chapter Text

He loves me.

He loves me.

Suo fucking Hayato loves me.

The drive back to the mansion was silent—eerily, suffocatingly so. But inside Sakura, everything was deafening. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding, his thoughts wouldn’t stop racing, crashing over each other in a storm he couldn’t control.

The engine hummed steadily as Suo steered through the winding streets. Sakura slumped on his seat and stared out the window, watching buildings and trees blur past—but his gaze kept drifting to Suo’s reflection in the glass.

He still couldn’t believe he’d followed Suo so easily—so obediently—all because of a kiss. His lips, his whole body, still tingled with it. Without thinking, he reached up to touch his mouth, only to snap out of it and drop his hand to his lap, fidgeting to calm his nerves.

He kept silent and turned his gaze back out the road. Only to realize this wasn’t the route back to the their mansion in District 1. Instead, the roads narrowed, flanked by overgrown shrubs and flickering streetlights that seemed to stutter in the dusk.

Sakura frowned, turning to Suo. “Where are you taking us?”

Suo’s hands tightened on the wheel, his face half-illuminated by the dashboard’s soft glow. His gaze flicked to Sakura for a moment—brief yet heavy—before returning to the road.

“District 1 is a longer haul from District 3,” he said, his tone soft. “I need us under a roof—somewhere we can talk. Soon.”

A road sign noticed they had entered District 4, where the city sprawl dissolved into open fields and scattered homes. The car turned onto a gravel path, tires crunching against the stones, and stopped before a modest two-story house. When they pulled up, Sakura stepped out, the cool evening air brushing his skin as he took in the sight.

The house was unassuming, two stories tall but compact, its wooden frame weathered yet sturdy. A small patio stretched out from the front door, framed by a low railing and a set of two rocking chairs that swayed faintly in the breeze. The roof sloped gently, its edges curling upward in a subtle nod to Chinese architecture, giving it an unexpected charm. It looked like any other house in the area, easy to overlook, but it felt alive—lived-in, like a heartbeat pulsed quietly within its walls.

Suo pushed the door open with a soft creak and led Sakura inside. The air shifted, warm and inviting, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and tea.

The floors were smooth hardwood, polished to a soft sheen, and a woven rug in earthy tones softened the space. The walls were bare but for a single shelf holding a teapot and a few well-worn books, their spines cracked from use. A sturdy lantern hung from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow that made the room feel snug despite its simplicity.

It wasn’t lavish, but it had everything needed—a quiet comfort built into every detail.

Suo gestured toward a small living room off the entryway. A low wooden table anchored the space, flanked by a cushioned sofa and a single armchair—both worn at the edges, their fabric faded but soft. Sakura glanced around, quietly noting the understated warmth.

Sakura made himself at home and sank into the cushions, surprised by how they molded to him. He watched as Suo disappeared, only to return moments later carrying a tray—a full tea set—typical Suo, and cookies, surprisingly.

“This place—I used to stay here often. Nights when I was on expeditions in District 4,” Suo said as he set the tray down and carefully arranged the cups. “No one else knows about it. Just me. We’re safe here to talk.”

This had to be a hideout. Suo’s hideout—where no one knew but him and Sakura now. It didn’t flaunt wealth, but it whispered intention, the kind of care that turned walls into shelter. A quiet refuge, tucked away in plain sight. And now, it was where everything would tilt off axis—where nothing would stay the same, once Sakura listen to whatever Suo was about to say.

Suo took a seat beside him on the couch, and Sakura was surprised he didn’t flinch when their shoulders touched—even though his mind screamed that he didn’t know this man at all—not the way he thought he did.

“Tea?” Suo said, utterly calm and irritating, as he poured into both cups.

“I don’t want your tea. I want you to spill it.” His voice cracked somewhere between defiance and dread.

Suo shot him a glare, and Sakura instantly shrank back.

“Sakura-kun, my place, my rules. I don’t want my throat to go dry, and I’m not about to let you faint from hunger before the story even gets to the good part. Isn’t food your entire moral compass?” Suo's tone was sharp but not unkind. “You skipped both lunch and dinner. I noticed. So eat the damn cookies.”

He grabbed Sakura’s cheeks and pressed a cookie to his lips. Sakura caved in—because yes, he was hungry, and Suo’s piercing eye never left room for argument.

Suo watched as Sakura munched through cookie after cookie. Sakura himself didn’t even seem to notice he was happily eating all of them—until he licked the last crumbs from his fingers, satisfied.

Suo reached out and brushed a few crumbs from the corner of Sakura’s mouth. Instantly, Sakura’s face burned, and he squirmed away.

“These cookies are my favorite brand,” he blurted, grabbing the nearest subject to cover his blush and how Suo’s touches always affected him. “My dad used to buy them for me when I got good grades. Which wasn’t often, ‘cause I sucked at studying. Not like we had much money for snacks anyway.”

The bitterness in his words was dulled by the lingering taste of butter and milk.

“I know,” Suo murmured, sipping his tea with a quiet hum.

“Huh? What do you mean, you know? Which part do you know? That it’s my favorite brand? That I sucked at school? Or that my dad bought them for me?”

“All of it,” Suo set his cup down. His gaze sharpened, serious now. “I know everything about you, Sakura-kun. I take notes of what my favorite person likes.”

Ah. Of course. Kotoha must’ve told him everything, down to the smallest details. Still, the thought that Suo knew everything about him while Sakura knew absolutely nothing about Suo—it sat uncomfortably in his stomach.

“For how long?” Sakura asked, fists clenched, frustration boiling inside him.

“Eleven years now,” Suo said, a hesitation to his tone.

“What—? You’ve been stalking me for eleven years? How—” Sakura snapped, but Suo lifted a hand in calming gesture, cutting him off gently.

“No—ah, no,” he said quickly. “I thought you meant how long I’ve been in love with you.”

Sakura flushed hard—again—caught off guard by the steady way Suo said it, like it was the most natural and obvious thing on earth. His heart was pounding against his ribs, and he had to—needed to—reign it in. He willed his mind to circle back to the number, the weight of it pressing on him.

“You’ve loved—I mean—known me for eleven years?” he asked, stunned.

Something like anxiety flickered behind his eye. “We have.”

“But—I don’t remember ever seeing you before. Not until that day in the alley,” Sakura murmured, completely thrown.

“You wouldn’t. Back then—I didn’t want you to.” Suo smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eye. “Sakura-kun, do you remember Takiishi mouthed off about a bridge yesterday?”

Sakura nodded slowly. He remembered how Suo had stepped in front of him the moment Takiishi mentioned that bridge, as if shielding him from more than just words.

“That wasn’t just an offhand comment,” Suo said. “He was talking about the bridge near the spot where you woke up on the riverbank six years ago.”

Sakura sucked in a breath. “Did—did Kotoha tell you about that day too?”

Suo gave a small shake of his head. “No. She didn’t have to. But she did tell me one thing—that you didn’t remember anything before that. Not how you got there. Not who left you.”

Sakura’s throat tightened at that. It was true—he remembered nothing from before that night on the riverbank. Just the crushing disorientation when he’d first opened his eyes. And above all, the frustration. A deep, gnawing sense that something had been snatched from him, though he couldn’t name what.

He hated thinking about it, let alone talking about it. Something in his chest always twisted, a dull ache surfacing whenever his mind tried to reach for whatever should have been there—and wasn’t.

But now—maybe it was the right time. Maybe because Suo’s gaze, unwavering and so achingly earnest, made it feel like he wouldn’t have to face it alone.

“I knew something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It only hit me when the police found me on the shore and got me to the police station to fill out paperwork—they told me it was 2019.” Sakura let out a shaky breath. “But in my head, it was still 2016. I got panicked. Couldn’t believe it. I ran off to the bathroom room and I saw it then. I saw me then. I looked—different. Taller and more—grownup.”

He looked down at his hands, as though seeing someone else’s. “And when my mom showed up—she also looked different. Older. More tired. But none of that mattered in the end. She still decided to leave anyway.”

“Sometimes my mind just drifts, unconsciously trying to grasp what’s missing. But nothing ever comes.” Sakura’s voice lowered. “My life felt kind of… empty, meaningless back then. Until these past few months.”

Until I met you.

The words almost slipped. He didn’t want to admit it—especially now—but being with Suo made him feel alive. Whole.

“In the end, I figured if I couldn’t remember it, maybe the absence of those three years wasn’t a big deal after all. Just a smudge on the timeline of my life,” Sakura said, letting out a long, quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “So I just let it be.”

Tentatively, Suo reached out and took Sakura’s hand in both of his—steady, grounding, as if pleading for him to stay. As if the truth might drive him away.

“Listen, Sakura-kun,” Suo said, his voice low and weighted with emotion. “I can give you those three years back. But it’s… not a happy story.”

Sakura’s fingers curled slightly against his. “Maybe I won’t like it,” he murmured, barely above a breath. “But if it is something between us, I need to know.”

Sakura saw it then. In Suo’s crimson eye. Sadness, quiet and raw, carried in the way he looked at Sakura like he was both afraid to be seen and desperate to be understood.

If eyes could speak, Suo’s would have told him everything before a single word left his mouth. That single crimson eye, so often veiled in cool confidence, now held a quiet ache—like longing worn thin by time. There was no calculation in it, no mask. Just a tenderness that trembled at the edges, as if he was looking at something precious he feared he might lose before he could fully hold it.

“Promise me. You’ll tell me everything now. Or else—your feelings for me will stay just that—a crush.” Sakura paused, then added with a faint scoff, “A really creepy one, at that.”

Suo’s eye widened slightly at the last part, and he scratched at his ear—blushing. Blushing.

Sakura had never seen him look so young. And in that moment, he realized—Suo was young. Just twenty-three, younger than Sakura by a year. But the world had never given him the space to be soft, or unsure, or anything other than sharp and in control. It had carved him into something far older than he was, and left no room for the kind of vulnerability now flickering in his face.

Suo took in a long breath before pulling out his wallet from his pocket. His hand shook as he fumbled with it, his usually steady fingers betraying him. The leather creaked softly, worn from years of use, and after a moment of clumsy effort, he slid out a small photograph. It was fragile, edges frayed and curling, the gloss dulled by time and touch. He hesitated, his breath catching, before extending it toward Sakura with a quiet reverence, as if it were a relic of something sacred.

Sakura took it gingerly, his fingers brushing Suo’s for an instant. The image came into focus under the dim light: a boy, no older than eleven or twelve, stood against the backdrop of a sun-drenched beach. The sky blazed a fierce blue, and the sea glittered like shattered glass behind him.

The boy held out a hand toward the frame, fingers clutching a small crab. In the other, he gripped a litter-picking stick, its tip half-buried in the sand.

A faded bucket hat sat low on his head, casting a shadow over his face and hiding most of his hair. But his smile was wide—beaming brighter than the sun. Or maybe it was just that the one behind the camera had found the perfect angle to let him shine.

Sakura stared into that sunlit smile, something stirred at the edge of his memory. Not quite a flash—more like a feeling. Like déjà vu, brushing the edges of a wound he didn’t know he carried.

But as Sakura brought the photo closer, peering at the edge of the hat where it met the boy’s brow, he noticed a faint detail: a few strands spilling out, split sharply between stark black and snowy white. His breath hitched, and he squinted, focusing past the brim. The boy’s eyes gleamed through the faded ink—one a deep, endless blue, the other a warm, glowing yellow.

A sharp gasp tore from Sakura’s throat, his fingers loosening around the photo. It began to slip, teetering on the edge of his grasp, but Suo moved swiftly—his hand closing over Sakura’s, catching both the trembling fingers and the fragile picture before it could fall. The warmth of Suo’s grip steadied him, a lifeline in the sudden storm of unrecognized memory and confusion.

“Ta-da,” Suo's attempt at levity fell flat, his voice brittle. He offered Sakura a smile—more crooked than reassuring. “Meet the young Sakura. The one I met on the first day of our trip to Japan.”

Sakura’s hands shook violently in Suo’s. Something stirred inside him, but not enough.

He did remember following his father to the beach after dropping out of school in sixth grade. They’d worked for an ocean-cleaning company—low-paying, but one of the few jobs left for men and kids without any certification. His family had been broke. Any work, any income, was better than nothing.

Suo couldn’t have been stalking him since he was thirteen, could he? The mere thought was ridiculous enough. Suo had also been a kid back then. And the photo—Sakura was grinning straight into the lens. Not caught off guard. Not stalked.

Yet no matter how hard he grasped, the recollection slipped through his fingers—the camera’s click, the face behind it, the moment itself swallowed by the black void in his mind.

“I—I don’t remember taking this picture,” he whispered, more like talking to himself.

Suo looked at him, something tender in his eye. “Do you remember the photo of my family on the beach? The one in my library?”

Sakura nodded, slow and confused. He tried to piece it together. They were the same age, both pictures had been taken on some beach, and the time had been the same year. His stomach turned.

“Did we—” He swallowed. “Did we meet back then?”

Suo nodded, and for the first time that night, his expression shifted—not with sorrow, but with quiet fondness.

“Yes. That photo of my family? You were the boy who took it.”

The boy who knew Suo. The version of himself Sakura had forgotten—but maybe never truly lost as long as Suo held the memories of his.

Sakura clutched the photo, breath unsteady. “Then—tell me. I want to meet him again.”

—•—•—

Eleven years ago - 2014

The beach was louder than Suo had expected, a riot of sound and color that made his twelve-year-old heart race. Waves crashed against the shore, gulls squawked overhead, and the sun blazed down, turning the sand into a glittering carpet that burned his bare feet.

It was his first day in Japan, his first summer away from home, and everything felt too big, too bright. He squinted against the light, his eyes stinging, and tugged at the hem of his oversized shirt, already damp with sweat.

His parents stood a few steps away, laughing as they posed for a photo, their voices mingling with the sea’s roar. They waved him over for a family picture with all three of them, but that would need a helping hand of someone else to take the shot.

He scanned the beach, looking for someone. Kids darted through the surf, adults lounged under umbrellas. And there was a boy, maybe Suo’s age, trudging along the shoreline with a litter-picking stick and a small bucket. His head was bowed—he didn’t seemed like he was having fun at the beach like the other kids at all.

A bucket hat flew across his vision. The boy ran over to snatch it up. His striking features caught Suo’s attention immediately.

His hair was a wild split of black and white, like someone had painted half his head with ink and left the other untouched. Suo tilted his head, curious, and jogged toward him, sand kicking up behind him.

“Hi!” Suo called, then froze, feeling dumb.

He didn’t know Japanese. His cheeks flushed as he waved awkwardly, pointing at the camera dangling from his neck.

The boy stopped, his head cocking to one side, and Suo gestured wildly—miming holding a camera, pressing a button, grinning like an idiot.

“Could you help us take a picture?” he said in his own language, knowing it wouldn’t help but hoping his flailing arms would.

The boy blinked, and Suo noticed his eyes—one blue as the sea, the other yellow like the sun overhead. They were striking, almost too much for one face, and Suo found himself staring longer than he meant to.

The boy nodded slowly, a shy grin tugging at his lips, and reached for the camera. Their hands brushed as Suo passed it over, and the boy’s cheeks—already pink from the heat—deepened to a bright red. Suo’s own face warmed, though he told himself it was just because of the heat of the sun.

“Let’s me show you,” Suo said, stepping closer.

The boy was taller, his frame lanky, and Suo could smell the salt and sweat on his skin, mixed with something earthy, like the sand itself.

“Just look here,” Suo pointed at the viewfinder, “and press this.”

He guided the boy’s finger to the shutter, their hands bumping again. The boy flushed red and fumbled, nearly dropping the camera, and Suo laughed—a bright, bubbling sound that surprised him.

The boy muttered something in Japanese, probably an apology, and squinted at the camera like it was a puzzle. Suo leaned in, their shoulders touching, and adjusted his grip.

“Like this,” he said, and for a moment, their heads bent together, figuring it out.

The boy nodded, steadier now, and stepped back to frame the shot. Suo ran to join his parents, who placed their hands on his shoulders. They smiled wide at the camera.

It took a moment for the boy to focus his gaze on the view screen of the camera. He seemed lost in the way Suo’s family standing close to each. His brows furrowed a little, and there was something wistful in his mismatched eyes.

The shutter clicked, and the boy lowered the camera to check the picture. He grinned, seemingly satisfied at the result, and held it out for them to see.

Suo jogged back, peering at the tiny screen. The picture was perfect—his family centered, the sea sparkling behind them, the horizon sharp and clear.

“Wow,” he breathed, looking up at the boy. “You’re good at this.”

The boy blinked. Realizing him not understanding Suo’s words, Suo gave him two big thumbs up.

The boy’s eyes brightened up, his cheeks pink, and handed the camera back. Suo wanted to say more, but words were a barrier, so he just smiled, hoping it said enough.

The boy turned back to his task, stabbing at a piece of plastic in the sand, and Suo watched him for a moment, reluctant to leave. The beach was fun, sure, but his parents were busy chatting, and the other kids were playing in groups. This boy, though—he was different. He seemed lonely.

Suo crouched a few steps away, picking up a crumpled can, then ran toward the boy. As he reached him, he tugged lightly at the hem of the boy’s shirt. The boy turned, eyes wide in surprise.

“I’m Suo,” Suo said, tapping his chest for clarity. “Suo.”

The boy blinked, then smiled—small at first, then brighter.

“Sakura,” he replied, mimicking the gesture by pointing at himself.

“Sakura,” Suo repeated quietly, tasting the name like a foreign fruit.

It rang a bell. Yes—he’d heard it before. The cherry blossoms.

Sakura nodded eagerly, clearly pleased Suo had gotten it right. He glanced at the can in Suo’s hand and held out his bucket. Suo dropped it in, a small, warm flicker of connection sparking in his chest.

Without a word, he bent to pick up a plastic straw, then a bottle cap, handing them over one by one as he followed Sakura along the shore, their shadows stretching side by side across the sand.

They worked in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was easy—like they’d make amazing teammates. If there were a prize for picking up trash, Suo was sure they would be the best duo. Every time their fingers brushed reaching for the same piece, Suo’s heart did a little flip. He glanced at Sakura and wondered if he felt it too—or if he even noticed at all.

At some point, Sakura stopped and pointed at a seashell, half-buried in the sand. He dug it out, held it up to the light and inspected it closely. Nestled in his palm, the seashell was a perfect spiral of soft coral pink and cream, its surface smooth and cool, glinting faintly like polished porcelain under the sun. The boy’s grin was so bright it rivaled the sun. Suo’s breath caught.

Sakura held it up and gently pressed it against Suo’s ear. It wasn’t the first time Suo had heard the ocean echo through a seashell—but this was the first time he heard his own heartbeat drumming inside it. Without thinking, he reached up and placed his hand over Sakura’s, holding the shell a little tighter.

Sakura blushed fiercely, stammered something in Japanese, then quickly pulled his hand back and dropped the shell into Suo’s palm. He turned away with a quick wave, motioning for Suo to keep walking—but his ears were still bright red.

He gifted it to me, Suo thought, cradling the seashell in both hands before carefully slipping it into his cloth bag like it was something precious.

They wandered along the beach, chasing shells and dodging waves, until Sakura let out a triumphant shout. He held up a small crab, its legs wiggling furiously, and thrust it toward Suo, his eyes sparkling. Suo fumbled for his camera, heart racing.

“Hold still!” he said, snapping the shot just as Sakura’s grin widened, the crab framed perfectly against the glittering sea. The image froze in Suo’s mind—Sakura’s two-toned hair sticking over his hat, his mismatched eyes, that radiant smile. He wanted to keep it forever.

Then the crab pinched Sakura’s finger, and he yelped, dropping it with a dramatic flail. The crab scuttled toward the sea, and Suo bursted out laughing, the sound echoing over the waves.

“Get it!” he shouted, already sprinting after it.

Sakura followed, their feet kicking up sand, their laughter blending into a single, joyful noise. They splashed into the surf, water soaking their shorts, the crab darting just out of reach. Suo dove forward, giggling. He almost caught the crab.

“Suo,” Sakura’s call of his name pulled him back instantly.

Suo turned, confused, as Sakura shook his head, pointing at the deepening water. He made a swimming motion, then crossed his arms in an X, his expression sheepish.

“Cannot swim,” he said in halting English, and Suo’s eyes widened. He nodded, stepping back, the water lapping at their waists.

“Okay,” Suo said back in his own accented English, still grinning. “Back to shore.”

They waded out, dripping and breathless, collapsing onto the sand in a heap. Suo glanced at Sakura, who was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, and felt something warm settle in his chest. This was what summer was supposed to feel like—light, free, alive.

A voice called from down the beach, and Suo looked up to see a man approaching—tall, with black hair and a kind smile. Sakura’s father, Suo guessed, from the way Sakura’s face lit up. The man waved, beckoning, and Sakura stood, brushing sand off his knees. He turned to Suo, his smile fading, and raised a hand in a shy goodbye.

Suo waved back, his throat suddenly tight.

As Sakura jogged toward his father, Suo sat there, the sand warm beneath him, the camera heavy in his hands. The beach stretched out, endless and bright, but it felt emptier now. He clutched the camera, thinking of the photo of Sakura with the crab, and made a quiet promise to himself.

He would ask his parents to come back to this beach someday. Maybe next summer, or the one after that. Maybe Sakura would still be here, with his wild hair and his shining smile, ready to chase crabs and make the world feel big again.

Suo stood, dusting off his shorts, and ran to join his parents, tucking that summertime smile safely in his heart.

—•—•—

Nine years ago - 2016

Suo hated summer.

He hated the way the air clung to his skin—humid and blistering—making every layer of fabric feel like a cage. But he couldn’t take them off. Not the long sleeves. Not the high collars. Not when they were the only thing hiding the bruises the Master left behind—cruel fingerprints carved into his flesh. Not when Takiishi’s boots left blooms of purple and black that never seemed to fade.

He hated the sun for shining so violently, piercing through curtains and lit up the dark corners he clung to, stabbing into his puffy, swollen eyes that burned raw from crying in the dark.

He hated the way his room turned into a furnace. Every broken sob, every choked breath seeped into the walls, until they seemed to echo his pain back at him.

Summer was too loud, too bright, too alive.

Suo hated summer. It always made him want to die.

This was the third summer he’d been chained in the industrial rot of District 2. And at this rate, Suo couldn’t tell if there would be a fourth.

Using his weight to shove open the rusted rooftop door, Suo told himself this would be the last time he had to go up here. He crossed the cracked concrete without hesitation, straight to where the railing bent low—twisted and broken just enough for someone to slip over. He stood there, fingers curling around metal still warm from the sun, and flung his leg over the railing.

And paused.

There was a commotion down below, the noise lost in the distance from the fourth floor. Suo couldn’t make out the words of the people on the ground. But something caught his eyes. A mob of black and white hair. Suo sucked in a trembling gasp. He would recognized it anywhere.

A tear escaped his eyes, tracing a path down his chin. The drop fell on the boy’s cheek.

He looked up and looked at Suo. His eyes widened like he had seen a ghost. And in those ocean blue and golden eyes, Suo’s summer had meanings again.

Suo turned from the edge, the world below calling him back to life.

He ran down the stairs—had never running so fast in his life. He wanted to see if it was him. He needed to see if it was really him.

The Master’s hand clamped onto Suo’s shoulder as he reached the ground floor, his breath ragged. Suo froze, muscles tensing under the grip.

“Right on time,” the man said. He sounded disgustingly nice.

His pulse thundered—whether from sprinting down four flights of stairs or the tangle of comfort and dread surging in his chest at seeing who was in front of him, he couldn’t tell.

Because there, on the Master’s doorstep, stood Sakura.

“This is Suo,” the Master said, voice bright, squeezing Suo’s shoulder harder. “Think of him as my eldest son, the first boy I took in. And this is Sakura. He’s family now.”

Sakura’s gaze lifted to look at Suo. He didn’t say anything. Neither of them could.

Sakura had grown taller since Suo last saw him, his frame stretched thin, almost gaunt, as if the world had drained him. His eyes, once vivid, were dulled now, heavy with exhaustion and a grim understanding of the future awaiting him. Suo’s chest ached.

He had dreamed of them meeting again, of seeing Sakura’s bright smile again—not here. Not like this. Not when Sakura was stepping into the same abyss that had consumed Suo.

“Suo, show Sakura the house,” the Master said, releasing his grip. “I’ll have a word with Mrs. Sakura.”

Suo dipped his head and stepped through the doorway, the Master’s voice trailing like a curse. “Your son’s in good hands, Mrs. Sakura.”

Suo didn’t look back. Couldn’t. His eyes burned.

I don’t want to lead you into this hell.

His legs moved on instinct, each step heavier with despair. After a stretched silence, Sakura’s soft footsteps followed. They rounded a third corner before Suo stopped and turned around to face him.

“Sakura,” he whispered. “It’s me. Suo. Do you remember me?”

Sakura gave a light nod, his eyes brimming with tears but his jaw clenched, holding himself from crying.

“You know Japanese?” he asked, as if it were the most important thing in the world in that moment.

His voice was raw, and lower than Suo had remembered from a few words he had heard on their first meeting two years ago. There was no traces of the joy of a boy grinning sunlight onto the beach.

“Yes,” Suo said, not knowing why he was answering or how he was robbed into this trivial conversation about languages in the first place. “I’ve been here for two years. Why—why are you here?” His voice dropped, more urgent.

Sakura looked down at his hands which were twisting the hem of his shirt. “My family sold me. To pay their debts.”

Something broke inside Suo.

Back then at the beach, Suo had known Sakura came from a hard life. He had seen it in the sunburns, the sweat, the way he picked up trash on barefoot like it was normal for kids his age. But being sold like property to that man? Like he was just some burden to be handed off? Suo’s fists clenched. Rage coiled in his stomach.

Suo’s chest ached with the need to protect him—to drag him out of this nightmare he’d once wished to escape alone.

“Did your parents sell you too?” Sakura’s voice pulled him out of his trance. His brows knitted with worry as he shifted his gaze toward Suo again.

“No. My parents—” Suo’s throat closed, the words sliced his throat like shattered glass. They didn’t have time to talk about that now. “Listen, Sakura. The Master isn’t the noble man they claim. Play along, act nice, stay safe. I’ll find a way to get you out.”

Sakura shook his head, trembling. “I saw you earlier. Up there.” His voice cracked. “You were going to jump.”

Sakura lost it then. His tears started spilling, and he scrubbed at them furiously. “Seemed like you couldn’t find a way out either. But promise me—that you won’t die. Promise me you won’t leave me.”

He held out his pinky—skinny, trembling, a child’s gesture stripped bare and desperate for some anchor he could grasp.

And in that moment, Suo saw him clearly. Sakura was just a kid—just a boy like Suo should have been, if not for all the pains that had carved him hollow.

For the first time in two years, Suo felt something steady taking root in his chest. He linked their pinkies together and pulled Sakura into a fierce, protective embrace.

He whispered, like a vow stitched from everything torn and shattered he had left, “I promise, Sakura-kun.”

—•—•—

Seven years ago - 2018

“I spat in Takiishi’s seaweed soup at lunch, just so you know,” Sakura grumbled as he placed the tonkatsu in front of Suo.

Sakura had become a surprisingly good cook. Two years in the kitchen earned him the nickname Little Chef among the maids. Suo was relieved, at least—Sakura had found value here, a role. Unlike him, confined to the Master’s room, turned into something he didn’t want to name. The thought made Suo swallow hard. But if his suffering meant Sakura’s safety here, he would bear anything. Do anything. Be anything.

He would not let anyone lay a hand on Sakura.

Suo nearly choked on his water. “What?”

He looked up, startled. Sakura was grinning—but not kindly.

“For tripping you in the hallway,” he said, arms crossed. “I saw that. Since we can’t fight that bastard, I figured I’d get revenge in my own way. I even asked Tsubakino for laxatives, but she just clicked her tongue and kicked me out.”

He huffed, pouting. He was taller than Suo by a full head, but looked absurdly like a sulky cat. Suo almost wanted to pinch his cheeks.

“Should I say thank you?” Suo laughed.

Sakura stomped once and grabbed Suo’s fork. He stabbed it into the pork and hooked his arm around Suo’s neck, shoving the bite toward his mouth.

“Thank me by eating the fuck up,” he snapped, bristling. “You never eat. You’re skin and bones. How the hell are you supposed to protect me like this?” The last part came out as a whisper—quiet, but heavy.

Suo’s heart jumped. Sakura was too close.

“I’ll finish it,” he said, relenting, and smirked. “But I can’t eat if you’re holding me… this close.”

Sakura flinched, then stepped back so fast it was comical—face flushed, arms folded tightly, eyes darting everywhere but at Suo.

Their friendship had shifted ever since that dumb game of Ten Truths. They'd only made it to the eighth round. Sakura had blurted out, “I don’t like girls,” just as Suo admitted, “I like boys,” at the exact same time.

Sakura had blushed so violently Suo thought he would combust. He stormed off saying he had to piss—even though his own room had a bathroom. Suo had flopped back on Sakura’s bed, heart pounding at the terrifying, beautiful possibility that their friendship could develop into something more.

Since then, Sakura had been awkward, more embarrassed. Guarded around Suo. But Suo didn’t mind. In fact, he found Sakura’s shyness even more endearing—the way Sakura was so easy to fluster made teasing him irresistible.

“I’ll get taller than you soon,” Suo said between bites.

Sakura’s food always tasted better than anyone’s. Suo just didn’t often feel like eating. His stomach turned too easily if he ate too much. But today—it was easier.

“As if,” Sakura scoffed, settling into the chair across from him. He folded a tissue into a chopstick holder, eyes fixed on Suo’s every bite like a mother hen. “And the chances are that, if you got taller, bigger—do you think that’d make him lose interest in you?”

Sakura held his gaze. His mismatched eyes—bright like sunflowers and summer skies—were too heavy for a seventeen-year-old. They both knew what he was talking about. They’d known since day one.

Suo had told him everything the night Sakura had first arrived—his body trembling, his pinky curled tightly around Suo’s as if that promise could shield him. And Suo, too broken to lie, had spoken the truth: what the Master did to him. What Suo had endured. How long it had gone on.

He hadn’t wanted to tell him. He hadn’t wanted to ruin Sakura’s innocence—something that had already been hard to salvage in this brutal world. But he couldn’t stand the thought of Sakura walking blindly into the same nightmare either.

Even now, years later, the weight of that moment lingered between them like smoke that never cleared. Suo still wasn’t sure if it had been the right thing—to tell him. Because ever since, he could see it in Sakura’s eyes: the quiet hurt, the silent fear. Not just for himself. But for Suo.

And maybe that was the cruelest part.

“I didn’t tell you so you’d carry it too,” Suo murmured, voice low and unsteady. “You were supposed to be the one thing left untouched. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be—as long as you’re safe—”

“I don’t want your protection like that,” Sakura snapped.

He shot to his feet, the legs of his chair scraping harshly against the floor. His hands gripped the table’s edge so tightly his knuckles turned white. The folded tissue he’d shaped into a chopstick holder dropped to the ground, forgotten.

“I want us to fight him together—not you throwing yourself at him like a shield for me, not your body or your soul being the price for my safety. If it ever comes to that, I’ll kill him before he pushes you any further.”

Suo set his chopsticks down. His appetite was gone. His fists curled against the tabletop, fingernails digging into his skin, but that pain was nothing compared to the storm brewing between them.

“You know that won’t work,” he said, voice trembling with restraint. “If we kill him, his followers will hunt us to the ends of the earth. We’d be dead by morning. Just—please, Haruka—”

He realized too late that his voice had risen. He drew a sharp breath, steadying himself.

“Please, just be patient a little longer. Every man has a weakness. The Master is no exception. I’m the one closest to him. I’ll find it. I’ll end this—on our terms. But until then, you’re my weakness. So please—for me—stay safe. Can you do that?”

Sakura went quiet.

For a moment, it looked like he might argue again. But then he nodded. The motion was stiff. Forced. Like it hurt him to do it.

“Sick bastards like him—” Sakura’s voice was laced with venom. “Eventually, what he’s doing won’t be enough to satisfy his thirst. He’ll want more. And when that time comes—I don’t think you’ll have much left.”

And Suo hated how much he understood what that meant.

Sakura heaved out a long sigh, “I didn’t mean to ruin your lunch, so just eat up. Or whatever.”

Suo smiled. He bet it was a crooked one.

“Height’s about genes, you know. You saw my parents—they were tall,” Suo said, trying to navigate the conversation to a brighter side. He hated arguing with the only person he got by his side.

Sakura’s eyes softened instantly at the mention of Suo’s past parents. He pushed the bowl of seaweed soup closer to Suo, urging him to take a taste.

Suo lifted the spoon and paused, suspicious. “Hold on, Sakura-kun. I beat you in Mario Kart yesterday. You didn’t want revenge and spit in my soup, right?”

Sakura nearly choked on his own breath. “What—! Are you stupid? You’re my friend.”

He turned red. Then, muttered, “I did add something, though.”

Before Suo could ask, Sakura shot up and bolted for the door.

“I like taller boys too, y’know,” he tossed over his shoulder, his ears reddening—and vanished down the hall.

Suo stared after him and then at the soup, spoon swirling softly. Floating in the broth, the narutomaki had been cut into tiny heart shapes.

Suo’s own heart fluttered in his chest.

And he smiled. He didn’t throw up his whole meal that day.

—•—•—

Six years ago - 2019

“Are you sure you want to meet Officer Nakamura yourself?”

Sakura asked as he carefully snipped away the overgrown strands on Suo’s nape, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone usually so brash. There was always something intimate in the quiet rhythm of it, as if each cut peeled away the weight of the past few years.

Suo looked down at the small note and map Sakura had retrieved from Shizuka earlier—the floral vendor at the downtown market where he bought kitchen stocks on weekends.

For over two months now, Sakura and Shizuka had served as discreet couriers, passing notes back and forth between Suo and Officer Nakamura, the Chief of Police in District 1. Tsubaki had vetted Nakamura as someone they could trust—one of the few who still stood for justice.

Over the past year, Suo had searched through every inch of the Master’s bedroom and private office, collecting scraps of documents, records, and ledgers—anything that could eventually bring him down. The pieces didn’t form a complete picture yet, but with Nakamura’s help, they might be enough to start something bigger.

“Yes, Sakura-kun. I want to speak with him face to face,” Suo said as he memorized the map—just in case, reading the time and location of the meeting. “There’s too much to explain. It’s easier if I say it all directly instead of sending it through you—”

“You don’t trust me with your oh-so-high-stakes mission?” Sakura cut in, his puffed cheeks reflecting on the bedside table mirror, pouting in that dramatic, over-the-top way of his. Suo nearly reached over to pinch him.

“You know I trust you with everything,” Suo said, his voice softening. “That’s why I don’t want to put you in even more danger than you’re already in. Just delivering these notes is risky enough. If something went wrong and you knew too much—”

“And you think I don’t worry just as much when you’re the one walking into that danger?” Sakura fired back, his tone no longer playful. The pout faded from his lips, replaced by something far more serious—something closer to fear.

Suo held Sakura’s gaze on the mirror.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know you worry. And that’s why I need to do this myself.”

Sakura’s jaw clenched. He looked down, fists at his sides. “You always say that. That you need to be the one. But if something happens—if he finds out—it’ll be your head first. And I—I wouldn’t be able to live with that—without you.”

The pain in his voice struck deeper than any threat Suo had ever faced.

Suo turned on his seat and reached out, holding Sakura’s hand in his. “I’ve lived with this fear longer than I can remember. But I’ve also lived with you, and that’s what makes it bearable. That’s why I can’t stop now. I have to try, while we still have time.”

He stood up, the hair falling off his shoulders onto the floor, and leaned in just enough to catch Sakura’s gaze. “I won’t get caught. I promise you that. I’ve covered every trail, planned every move. But if I do nothing—if I let this rot go on any longer—then there really won’t be a future for either of us.”

Sakura looked at him then, really looked. His eyes—those odd, mismatched eyes—were brimming with everything he couldn’t put into words. Fear. Anger. Love. A desperate wish to believe.

And then, finally, he sighed and nodded.

“Fine,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his black and white hair. “But if you’re late, even by a second, I will come find you. And drag your sorry ass back myself.”

Suo smiled, a small but earnest thing. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Sakura turned away, mumbling under his breath, “Damn right you wouldn’t.”

And as Sakura pushed him down onto his seat and continued working on his hair with soothing hands, Suo allowed himself a moment—just a moment—to breathe.

———

Suo dragged his body back to his room. His legs wobbled as he turned the doorknob, hands trembling—no, his entire body was shaking from the aftermath of what the Master had done to him. Sakura had been right. Normal play didn’t quench that monster’s thirst anymore. The slashes along his back sent waves of pain through him with every step, and he could feel blood welling from the grip-shaped bruises on his throat.

The first thing he did was turn on the light. He was afraid—of the dark, of the silence, of the memories clawing their way to the surface to strangle him.

“Sakura-kun?” Suo breathed out.

Sakura was lying on his bed, like he’d been waiting for him. His eyes widened, then hardened into something murderous the moment he took in Suo’s condition. Suo turned his face away, gaze falling to the floor. He couldn’t bear being seen like this.

If Sakura started cursing, if he screamed vengeance and swore to kill the Master right here and now—maybe Suo would break. Maybe he would let him. And everything they had worked for would be gone.

But Sakura didn’t say a word.

He stood and approached slowly, took Suo’s shaking hand, and led him wordlessly to the bed. He sat him down gently at the edge and turned to the drawer, pulling out bandages and healing balm.

He undressed Suo with slow, careful hands. And Suo let him. He was too tired to protest.

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” Sakura muttered above him.

Suo kept his gaze down, eyes blurring with unshed tears. It was probably a good thing. He didn’t want to see the expression on Sakura’s face. Didn’t want to see the bruises. Didn’t want to see himself.

Sakura cleaned and bandaged his wounds with practiced movements—he had done this before, too many times. But this must have been the worst it had ever been.

They didn’t speak. Sakura tugged him in and slid himself under the blanket. They lay side by side, staring at each other for a long, stilled moment.

Sakura’s eyes were tired. Full of sorrow. Suo hated that look on him.

“Why are you not leaving?” Suo asked hoarsely. “Someone might notice—”

Fingers pressed gently against his lips.

“I don’t care,” Sakura’s voice was unwavering. “Tomorrow you’re meeting Officer Nakamura. Who knows what’ll happen. Maybe—maybe this is our last night together.”

“Don’t say that. I promised you I would come back.” Suo’s words were muffled against Sakura’s fingertips.

Sakura exhaled sharply. “Why do you always have to make it difficult? I just want to stay. With you. Am I not allowed? If not, fine. I’ll leave—”

Sakura was halfway sitting up when Suo grabbed his wrist to pull him down again. Despite the sudden movement, the injures seemed to dull with just Sakura’s warmth wrapping around his body. He tugged Sakura’s head onto his chest, hugging him close.

“Don’t go. Stay the night,” Suo said against his hair, breathing him in, like he could live off on his scent alone. It was the smell of sunlight and blossom trees, of spring that was comfortable and comforting before the suffocating heat of summer came crashing down on him.

Sakura’s breathing evened out. Just as Suo was drifting off from his exhausted body and Sakura’s warmth, he heard it. Soft, quiet, yet the loudest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

“You have to come back to me. I love you, Suo.”

Suo’s eyes snapped open in surprise. He drew in a sharp gasp. So the narutomaki hearts in the soup weren’t just for decoration.

“Fuck—!” Sakura nearly shouted, panicking. His face went all shades of red as he fumbled to explain. “I thought you were asleep!”

He started wriggling like a cornered cat. Suo only tightened his hold around him.

“Easy there, tiger. Are you embarrassed?” he teased, voice light despite everything, despite how his heart was so heavy with longing and fear for their tomorrows.

“No shit!” Sakura squeaked. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean for you to hear that I love—” He cut himself off.

“Why?” Suo asked, softly now. “Why didn’t you want me to know?”

“Because I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way. Because you acted like nothing happened every time I cut those narutomaki into hearts! I stopped doing it after the third time. I thought you were ignoring it as a kind rejection.”

“You also did the heart thing in Tsubakino’s soup,” Suo countered dryly. “So I thought it was just your thing.”

Maybe they were both a little dumb.

“It’s because she likes romantic stuff and she’s sweet. I just wanted to make her happy,” Sakura grumbled.

“Aww, aren’t you everyone’s lovable boy?” Suo cooed.

Sakura huffed, hiding his blush behind his bicolor hair. Then he looked up—his eyes were shining.

“So do you love this lovable boy or not?” he mumbled, pouting. “If you say no, I swear you’ll never trust my soup again. You won’t know when I spit in it.”

“Eh?” Suo grinned. “That’s unhygienic. But if I got your spit, say, this way—”

His hand slid from Sakura’s shoulder up to his neck, grabbing his nape and pulling him closer. Sakura’s breath caught, but he didn’t move away.

Suo’ heart raced as he leaned in, letting his breath ghost over Sakura’s lips. He paused—just long enough for Sakura to escape if he wanted.

Blue and gold eyes fluttered shut. And Suo kissed him.

Sakura was everything Suo had ever wanted—yearned. He was soft, and warm, and he was holding onto Suo like he was his lifesaver just the way Sakura was grounding Suo in the chaos of his spinning life.

They kissed softly. Slowly. Like they had all the time in the world to savor the moment they never thought they could have.

Suo nipped Sakura’s lower lip, which earned him a surprised gasp. He took the chance to tilt his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue slid past Sakura’s lips, tracing the edges of his teeth, then curling against Sakura’s tongue in a gentle, coaxing dance. His hands cupped Sakura’s face, thumbs brushing softly his cheeks.

When they pulled back to breathe, Suo saw Sakura’s eyes brim with tears, the blue and yellow almost lost with his irises blown wide. He knew why Sakura was on the brink of crying now at this moment, but he didn’t want to hear it. It would break his hearts into thousands of tiny pieces like the narutomaki.

If this were their last kiss, he wanted it to never end.

Suo’s lips crashed against Sakura’s again, swimming in his tides. He only broke away to trace his mouth along Sakura’s jaw—warm, smooth. His lips followed the sharp line, and he felt Sakura’s pulse leap beneath his skin.

Reaching Sakura’s ear, he murmured, “If you give me your spit, I’ll give you mine too, make you wet all over with my mouth.”

His tongue flicked out, tracing the outer shell of Sakura’s ear, then dipping into the sensitive inner curve. He sucked lightly on the lobe, tasting faint salt. Sakura shuddered, whimpering, his hands gripping Suo’s shoulders tightly.

Suo felt Sakura’s hips shift, the hard line of his cock pressing against Suo’s thigh through their clothes. Sakura froze, face flushing crimson, stammering, “Fuck—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I know what the Master had just done to you—I shouldn’t—”

Suo’s heart softened, his hand gently catching Sakura’s chin to tilt his face up.

“Hey, this is us. Don’t let him ruin this too,” Suo willed his voice to sound steady and reassuring.

When Sakura’s eyes still didn’t lock on him, he nudged his nose against his. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s just your body saying what your heart already knows—you love this, don’t you?”

To prove his point, Suo guided Sakura’s trembling hand to his own hardness, pressing it against the bulge in his pants. “See? You’re not alone.”

Sakura’s breath hitched, his fingers curling instinctively over Suo’s arousal, and he nodded.

“Yes, this is us.”

Sakura looked at Suo then—and smiled. And just like that, five years of pain inside Suo seemed to melt away. His mismatched eyes sparkled like the ocean on the day they first met, and his grin broke through the shadows like a summer night touched by sunrise.

Suo didn’t have time to react—Sakura was on him again, kissing him hard, almost frantic. There was no hesitation this time. Just heat, tongue, and the sound of their breathing turning heavy. Then Sakura’s hand pressed down, rubbing over his cock through his pants like he knew exactly what he wanted. Suo sighed, a raw sound slipping from him—a kind of pleasure he’d never known in bed. The way Sakura moved against his thigh, hips grinding for friction, was messy, desperate. Like he needed this too, to drown out the noise in his head.

Their hands fumbled in sync, tugging pants down to their knees, freeing their cocks to the bite of cool air. Suo wrapped his fingers around Sakura’s hand, guiding it to encircle both of them. The heat of Sakura’s cock against his own made Suo exhale shakily—he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this closeness.

Their hands moved as one, stroking up and down, palms slick, veins throbbing under their grip. Suo’s thumb swept over both their tips, smearing precum, circling the sensitive slits until Sakura gasped against his neck. The sound went straight to Suo’s spine.

“Ah—feels so good, Suo,” Sakura gasped, his voice rough and low with pleasure.

“I want you, Haruka,” Suo breathed, the words escaping before he could stop them. His free hand slid up Sakura’s chest, fingers splaying wide over his skin. He cupped the firm muscle, thumb brushing over one nipple, teasing it until it pebbled under his touch, hard and sensitive. “Let me touch you more.”

His lips brushed along Sakura’s neck, trailing slow kisses over warm, smooth skin. He sucked firmly just below the jaw, letting his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. A dark, wet mark bloomed there, and another followed near Sakura’s collarbone, the skin flushing red beneath the press of his tongue.

Sakura let out a low moan, his grip around both their cocks tightening—just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.

“Touch me,” he murmured, voice thick with need. “Touch me everywhere. Please.”

Sakura’s desperate plea wasn’t a demand—it was a surrender, given freely and full of trust. That urgency anchored Suo, forging steel where there was once only fracture.

For the first time in years, Suo felt the chains around his soul loosen. The bruises left by the Master were not just on his skin, but etched deep within him—on his mind, his soul. Yet here, now, with Sakura’s hands and voice, those scars began to fade, replaced by something new and fierce: a raw hunger—not just for pleasure, but for command. Control over his body, his will, his fate.

Suo’s chest swelled with the surge of power—this was his touch to give, on his terms. Sakura’s words felt like salvation. It was a release for Suo, a reclaiming of himself.

He spat into his palm—the sound sharp in the stillness. His hand moved behind Sakura, fingers sliding between his cheeks. He rubbed slowly around the tight ring of muscle, feeling it twitch under his touch.

Sakura’s moan broke against his chest, raw and choked. His body jolted slightly, hips pressing in closer like he couldn’t help it. Suo kept his hand firm, circling again, pressing just enough to make Sakura gasp louder. His control, his pace—it was all his now.

“I’m going to touch you deep in here, Haruka,” Suo growled against his lips, voice low and rough with need. “You want that?”

Sakura shuddered, nodding before the words could leave his mouth—his breath hitched, hot and uneven, as he arched back into Suo’s hand, hungry for more.

“Once we’re free,” Suo whispered, his lips brushing Sakura’s, “I’ll touch you every day, every night—until my hands are all you know. Until you can’t forget my touches. Until you can’t forget me.”

“I’ll never forget you, Suo,” Sakura choked out, voice cracking. His hands gripped Suo’s shoulders, fingers digging in like he was afraid to fall apart. “Kiss—kiss my ears again. Please.”

Suo didn’t hesitate. His mouth found Sakura’s ear, tongue tracing the soft curve before curling into the sensitive dip. He sucked the lobe slow and deep, feeling Sakura tense in his lap—cock twitching, grip faltering, hips bucking toward his touch.

With a sharp, choked cry, Sakura came, his release spilling hot and thick over their fingers, coating their cocks. His body trembled, pressed tightly against Suo’s.

Using Sakura’s cum as slick, Suo tightened his grip, stroking their cocks faster, the wet heat driving him to the edge. His breaths grew ragged, and with a low groan, he followed Sakura over, his own release mixing with Sakura’s as they clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure.

A moment built from years of closeness, loyalty, fear, love—all crashing together into this one breathless crescendo.

“Now we’re making a mess,” Sakura mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He lifted their joined hands, blinking at the cum smeared across their fingers.

Suo gave a soft laugh, but his jaw clenched. He didn’t want this to be their last night. Not when everything finally felt like theirs again. He reached over, hooking his pinky around Sakura’s sticky one.

“I promise you. I will always come back to you. You just need to wait.”

———

Taking a deep breath, Suo quietly turned the lock and slipped out, clicking the door shut behind him. He paused in the dim hallway, glancing left and right, every shadow stretching like a threat. His hand pressed over his chest, steadying his breath—beneath his coat, the files he’d spent the past year collecting were tucked close, the weight of them heavy.

He navigated the blind spots of the security cameras with practiced precision—those, he had memorized himself. When he reached the kitchen, he crouched low and climbed into the ventilation pipe, the path Sakura had carefully mapped out for him. If he followed it exactly, it would lead him to the backdoor of the stronghold—and out.

For the first time in three years, Suo stepped beyond the fences of the stronghold. The world outside—though cloaked in darkness—felt vast, alive, and exhilarating. He could see beyond the forest canopy, where stars shimmered like scattered embers across the night sky.

He wanted to scream. To run. To disappear into the freedom stretching before him.

But there was no time for dreams now.

Every second brought the risk of someone knocking on his door and discovering his absence. He forced the rising thrill back down into his chest, steadied his breath, and unfolded the map Officer Nakamura had drawn for him—his guide to their meeting point, and perhaps the first step toward ending it all.

He checked his watch—it was over a twenty-minute run to the meeting point deep within the forest. Officer Nakamura could have chosen somewhere closer, but that would’ve meant straying near the Master’s patrol routes and high-surveillance zones. Neither of them could afford that risk. If it cost Suo borrowed time to run farther, then so be it. It was a sacrifice they had to make.

Then he saw him—a man leaning against a massive tree, a thick rope coiled tightly around its trunk like a warning. He had a sharp undercut, black hair slicked back, and eyes like forged steel. That had to be Officer Nakamura But one could never be too careful.

Still panting from the run, Suo approached with slow, measured steps. His fingers brushed the inside of his waistband, grazing the handle of the fruit knife Sakura had snuck to him earlier—just in case.

“Hey, old man,” Suo called out, voice steady despite his racing heart. “May you tell me the one route to the village below the mountain?”

It was code. Naka meant Under and Mura meant Village. May 1st was also Nakamura’s birthday. If this man was truly Nakamura, he would understand.

“Just follow the sappan trees,” the man replied without pause, eyes sharp, unreadable. “And stay on the right path down the mountain.”

Suo exhaled a shaky breath, relief washing over him. “Nice to finally meet you, Officer Nakamura.”

“Likewise, Suo-kun,” Nakamura replied, his tone brisk. “We don’t have much time. Let’s get to it.”

Without delay, Suo reached into his coat and pulled out the sealed bundle of documents, handing them over.

“The Master’s been trafficking minors for the past five years,” he got straight to the point without preamble. “These files detail the three main locations where he’s keeping them—and the real identities of the victims. It might not be enough to bring him down completely but it could give you the leverage to act—Or at least get those kids out.”

Suo saw Nakamura’s jaw tighten. He flipped open the files and scanned the pages quickly—eyes narrowing, breath sharpening. Then he spat onto the dirt, disgust twisting his expression.

“Sick bastard. He’s holding forty-seven children hostage.”

Something lodged in Suo’s throat. Forty-nine, he thought bitterly, if Sakura and I had been counted.

“Will this be enough?” Suo asked quietly. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Will this work out?”

Nakamura looked up, face grim. “Suo-kun, this is the strongest proof we’ve ever had against him—no doubt about that. But I’ve tracked the Master’s movements for five years. His ties run deep. His influence reaches into the police force, government, beyond. Even if we had enough to sentence him to death tomorrow, there’s no guarantee his empire wouldn’t continue to breathe without him.”

He paused, folding the documents with care. His voice softened just slightly.

“But for what you’ve done—what you risked—I can at least give you this: I’ll get you out of his hold tonight. I’ll put my own neck on the line if I have to. A first ticket out of the country. Back to China and to your family. I’ll make sure of it.”

Suo’s family in China. It had been five years since that vacation that took his parents’ lives. Since then, silence. The Master must have intercepted every attempt from his relatives to reach him. Maybe by now, they all believed he had died in that same crash.

This was Suo’s only chance at freedom.

“I can’t,” Suo said, his voice trembling but final.

Hakura Sakura—the boy who was counting seconds, waiting for him to come back to him—was now his home to return to.

“Why—” Nakamura started, caught off guard, but Suo cut him off.

“There’s another kid still trapped in the stronghold. Can you get us both out?” His voice sharpened with urgency. He knew he was asking for too much, but if he got to deal with anything to save Sakura—even on others’s stakes, he would do it in an instant.

Nakamura fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he did the mental math—risk, distance, timing.

Finally, he nodded. “One hour, max. Get him. Be back here.”

But Suo was already gone before he heard the end of it—running, heart pounding, wind screaming in his ears. Running back to the only person he would never leave behind.

———

Reaching Sakura’s room was the first thing Suo did when he returned to the stronghold. And the last person he wanted to find waiting there was Takiishi.

The man stood lounging against the wall like he owned the hallway, arms folded and expression unreadable. But something in his posture—too casual, too calculated—sent a cold bolt of dread straight into Suo’s gut.

“It’s past midnight, little kyodai,” Takiishi said, voice flat, eyes glinting with something cruel. “Shouldn’t you be asleep? Or are you here to check if your pet’s still loyal?”

Suo’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have time for this—especially not tonight.

“Get lost, Takiishi,” he snapped, stepping past him.

But Takiishi’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder hard enough to dislocate it if he so much as wanted.

“Looking for your little lover boy?” he muttered, voice low and taunting. “He changed sides. Smart kid figured out who really runs this place—who to bend over for.”

Suo’s blood turned to ice. Then fire.

He shoved the man’s hand off and hissed, “Don’t you dare say that about him.”

But Takiishi wasn’t finished. “Saw him myself. Waiting outside your door like some lost puppy. Then, when the Master came looking for you, your precious Sakura tripped—real convenient—right into his arms. The boy led him straight to his own room. Guess he’s making himself useful.”

Suo didn’t hear the rest. Rage blurred his vision as his hand darted to his waistband, fingers curling around the fruit knife Sakura had given him. He dropped low and drove the blade into Takiishi’s shin.

Takiishi screamed, stumbling back as he reached down instinctively to grab his wound.

Suo didn’t waste another second.

He sprinted down the hallway and slammed open Sakura’s door. And what he saw stopped his heart.

The Master was on the bed, knees between Sakura’s spread legs, one hand pinning both of Sakura’s wrists above his head, the other gripping his thigh. Sakura’s shirt was half-torn, collar stretched wide enough to show bruises already blooming along his collarbone. His eyes were wild, panicked—he was struggling, silently, like his voice had been stolen.

Red surged through Suo’s vision. He didn’t think. He moved.

No more secrets. No more escape plans. Only him. Only Sakura. That was all that mattered now.

He launched forward, knife raised, aiming straight for the Master’s throat.

The blade never made it. The Master was already turning.

Suo had never been a match to the Master. The man was a towering beast and a ruthless fighter who had mastered nearly every form of martial arts, skilled enough to kill barehanded and fast enough to read a movement before it finished.

The Master moved with terrifying precision. One hand shot out, catching Suo’s wrist mid-swing, locking it in place with a crushing grip. His other hand snapped forward, knocking the knife clean out of Suo’s grasp. It hit the ground behind them with a hard clatter and skidded out of reach.

Before Suo could pull back, the Master’s palm slammed into his neck and closed tight. Suo’s feet left the floor. His spine cracked against the wall behind him.

The Master pinned him there with one hand, fingers digging in like metal clamps. Suo’s nails clawed at the arm choking the life out of him, legs kicking uselessly beneath him. His throat collapsed inward under the pressure. No air. No sound. Just pain.

His lungs screamed for oxygen. Black dots crawled across his vision. His ribs jolted with each jerking breath he couldn’t take.

The Master’s face loomed inches from his—long hair veiled parts of it, but Suo could still see the unfeeling, monstrous gaze, the sheer intent to kill radiating from him even in silence.

Then—A wet crack.

The Master jerked back with a low snarl.

Suo dropped. He hit the floor hard, coughing, chest convulsing. Breath scraped through his throat like glass. He doubled over, retching dry, every gasp burning worse than the last.

He looked up just in time to see blood cascade down the Master’s face. A deep gash ran from his temple down past his cheekbone, torn across his skin with something sharp.

Sakura ran towards him with his eyes wild and hysterical. In his grip was the seashell he had given Suo when they first met at the beach. The sharp end was slick and dripping with blood.

He had struck the Master with it.

“RUN.” Suo surged forward, grabbed his wrist.

No hesitation. Suo pulled him as they bolted for the door.

And they ran. Down the hall. Past the back entrance into the opening field outside the stronghold. Behind them, chaos followed.

Neither of them looked back.

“Why you did that?” he gasped, his grip tight around Sakura’s wrist as he lead them to where Nakamura was waiting.

Sakura met his eyes. He said, panting. “He was heading to your room. I had to buy time.”

The sound of pursuit crashed behind them—yells, boots, orders barked into the dark.

They reached the bridge that lead to the forest. Once inside the trees, they would have a chance to hide and run and escape. Almost there.

A shadow lunged from the side—not a man, but a beast. The weight crushed Suo before he could scream.

A heavy blur of fur and muscle slammed into Suo from behind, knocking the breath out of him as he hit the ground hard. A beast dog was on top of him—jaws bared, forelegs pinning him down with crushing weight. Its growl rumbled low and deep, hot breath against his face as it snapped inches from his throat.

Sakura shoved the beast off Suo with all his strength, but the dog swung its massive head and muzzle, slamming him several feet away. He hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“GO!” Suo screamed into the night. “HARUKA—GO!”

Sakura scrambled to his feet—

A sharp whistle cut through the air. The dog backed off instantly, and before Suo could react, a hand seized his face and hauled him upright.

“I’ll fucking destroy you,” the Master snarled, blood pouring down his face from the deep gash across his face.

His hand crushed Suo’s face like a vice—thumb driving deep into his eye socket. Not just pressing—digging.

Suo screamed, but the sound barely registered past the explosion of agony. The world cracked apart. Fire ripped through his skull. Hot blood gushed down his cheek. Nerves lit up like lightning. His knees buckled. The pressure was white, unbearable—

“GO!” he shrieked again, voice cracked beyond recognition.

Through the blinding red, he saw Sakura frozen. He wasn’t moving.

Then the dog lunged again. Sakura stumbled backward, tripped over the low rails of the bridge—and fell.

A splash tore through the night and Suo’s heart. Suo’s pain evaporated into raw panic. He screamed, broken and barely human.

“I’ll do anything—ANYTHING! Let me save him! He can’t swim!”

The Master’s expression shifted from murderous to sickening satisfy, and he dropped Suo like a rag.

He couldn’t see—blood from his destroyed eye veiled everything in red. But his body moved on its own, driven by instinct and terror. He sprinted to the edge of the bridge and hurled himself into the river below.

The cold hit him like a wall as he plunged into the water. He kicked through the murky depths, one eye blurred with blood, the other straining to see—lungs burning, chest tight. The current dragged at his limbs, but the water here was shallow enough to fight through; he caught a flicker of movement, felt the desperate struggle in the flow, and spotted Sakura near the bottom—flailing, weakly trying to push himself toward the surface.

He surged towards him and cradled Sakura’s head before pressing their mouths together, forcing air into his lungs, praying it wasn’t too late—that it was enough. A moment later, Sakura jolted, arms latching around Suo’s shoulders. Suo gripped him tightly, kicked off the riverbed, and swam hard for the surface. They broke through together, both gasping for air.

Suo swam with all his strength left and dragged Sakura onto the shore under the bridge. They collapsed on each other. Sakura clung to Suo, fists twisting into the fabric of his clothes like he was terrified Suo would disappear. His gaze locked onto the blood still pouring from Suo’s ruined eye, and his whole body started to shake violently.

“Suo—” Sakura choked out, his voice splintered, frantic. “Your eye—no—your eye—”

His body shook harder, words crumbling into broken gasps as panic took hold. His breaths came too fast, too sharp, sobs wrenching out of him in jagged bursts until his strength gave out. With one last, shuddering inhale, he collapsed against Suo—unconscious.

Suo clung to him like he was holding the world together.

His sobs ripping from somewhere deeper than his lungs—like they’d torn through muscle and bone just to escape. His tears spilled freely, vanishing into the mix of blood and riverwater that soaked their skin, streaking their chests, their clothes, their closeness—like grief etched in liquid.

“I love you—I love you, Haruka,” Suo whispered, his voice unraveling into choked breaths as he pressed their foreheads together. “I promise, I’ll find you. I’ll come back to you—”

A hand seized his collar and tore him away.

Suo thrashed wildly, blind with blood and fury, his nails clawing at the dirt, at the air—anything to stay. His ruined eye burned, but it was nothing compared to the agony tearing through his soul.

“Take him,” the Master barked.

Takiishi limped forward, closing in on Sakura’s motionless body.

“No—no, no—” Suo gasped, stumbling against the Master’s hold. “Let him go. Please—I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. Be anything.”

The Master looked down at him, eyes like cold stone—unmoved, unfeeling.

“You’re right,” he said at last, voice flat. “Instead of keeping two traitorous dogs at my side… I’d rather keep them by the neck.”

He leaned closer, his words like a knife twisting into Suo’s chest.

“And if you so much as breathe the wrong way—” His eyes flicked to Sakura. “—I’ll hunt him down.”

Through the trees, past the altar shrouded in drifting mist, a figure emerged.

Tsubaki. Still as stone. Watching.

Their eyes met. And in the quiet nod that followed, Suo understood—Sakura would be safe. He would be protected.

Something inside him gave out. Suo nodded his head at the Master. His body stilled. Arms limp. The fight drained from him like blood from a wound. The Master dragged him back, but Suo’s gaze never left Sakura’s form on the riverbank.

It felt like his heart had been torn from his chest and left behind—still beating, still bleeding, but not his anymore.

———

“Officer Nakamura, may I ask you a favor?” Tsubaki said quietly as she buttoned a dry shirt over Sakura’s bruised chest, her hands steady despite the weight in her voice. “Consider it repayment. For saving Shizuka before.”

Nakamura stood a few feet away, the flame of his lighter briefly illuminating his tired face before he lit a cigarette. Smoke curled upward as he exhaled, gaze fixed on the moonlit trees outside. This night would stretch long—for him, for his case against the Master. And for Suo.

“Anything for you, Tsubaki,” he muttered, dragging in deep.

“When he wakes,” she said, glancing down at the boy curled into a jacket, “take care of him. If he tries to crawl back to Suo, stop him. Keep him out of this world. Let him live a normal life—away from the Master’s shadow.”

Nakamura tapped ash from the tip of his cigarette. “Roger that.”

As it turned out, the hardest part never came.

When Sakura woke, his memories of Suo were gone.

—•—•—

Side story:

Suo’s to do list before meeting Sakura again:
- Learn material arts so I can fight for Haruka.
- Eat more so I will be taller than Haruka.
- Won’t cut my hair because I only let Haruka do that.
- Do anything to protect Haruka.
(With a deep blush, Suo added Learn how to be a good boyfriend)

Chapter Text

"Sakura-kun.”

Suo’s voice was calling out to him, but he couldn't hear it through the noise ringing in his ears. The river’s current still echoed in him, drowning everything out. His mind fought to keep those memories buried—protecting him even as it destroyed him.

Sakura still couldn't remember any piece of the past Suo had told him about, but he could feel it tearing through every fiber of his being like thousands of needles.

"Why—nothing—" Sakura’s nails dug into his own chest, as if he could rip the memories out through skin and bone. "Why can’t I remember? But it hurts—"

His voice cracked, raw and broken. Tears he didn't even realize were falling burned hot tracks down his cheeks.

"Sakura-kun, stay with me," Suo's voice sounded distant, drowning in the merciless tides of the river where he had lost Suo and himself—but the panic and pleading in it was just as loud. "You don’t have to remember it. Please just—Don't let it devour you. Please."

He was gasping for air like a drowning man, each breath a desperate sob. He couldn't tell if it was his lungs burning or his heart shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces. He was unraveling—mind, body, everything—like threads pulled too tight finally snapping.

"I can't—I can't breathe—" The words came out strangled, barely human.

"Sakura-kun, I need you to breathe. Please, just breathe with me."

Distantly, through the haze of his breaking, he could feel Suo's arms wrapping around him, pulling him into his embrace like he was trying to hold all of Sakura's scattered pieces together. Suo cradled Sakura's head and pressed his ear against his chest, and despite everything falling apart—just like when Sakura had been poisoned and dying, everything hurt and all his senses dulled—Suo's heartbeat was still the loudest and steadiest thing Sakura had ever heard. The only thing anchoring him to this world.

"Listen to my breathing and follow," Suo's voice vibrated through Sakura's very soul, coming from his chest more than his mouth, wrapping around him like a lifeline.

Sakura clutched at Suo's changshan with white-knuckled desperation, like his first instinct wasn't to speak, but to hold onto. He listened and tried to match Suo's heartbeats as his own, each breath a monumental effort, until the ache in his chest settled from agony to a bearable devastation.

"I'm here now. And I'm not leaving." Suo stroked his hair with infinite tenderness, the strands weaving between his fingers in soothing motions. "I've got you. You'll be alright. We'll be alright. I promise you—we'll be alright."

But even as Suo's voice wrapped around him like a sanctuary, the weight of everything—the lost memories, the truth, the overwhelming grief for a past he couldn't reach—crashed over him like a final, merciless wave. His vision blurred, not from tears this time, but from something deeper. His mind, already fractured and desperate to protect him, made the decision for him.

The world faded to black.

———

When consciousness slowly returned, it felt like he’d been asleep for years, yet barely rested at all. He found himself lying on an unfamiliar bed. The sheets were soft beneath him, and a warm lamp cast gentle light across the room—not harsh, but enough to keep the shadows at bay. Through the window, he could see it was still night outside, darkness pressing against the glass.

He turned his head, still heavy with exhaustion, and found Suo lying beside him—not touching, but close enough that Sakura could see every detail of his face in the soft lamplight.

Suo lay very still. His lone crimson eye blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears. He was gnawing his lips with his teeth, and this was the first time Sakura saw Suo look so nervous—so scared.

“Sakura-kun,” he breathed, voice trembling. “It’s me. Suo. Do you remember me?”

What kind of question was that?

And for a horrible second, Sakura almost wanted to say Who are you? just to spite him for keeping him in the dark for so long. Just to see how he would react.

“You’re too handsome to forget, Suo-san.”

He settled for that at last. His voice was too hoarse for this kind of a joke, but still, it did a wonderful job at tugging a bubbling laugh out of Suo—something Sakura had missed for a while. The relief on his features was visible.

“How are you feeling?” There was something achingly tender about the way Suo spoke, like he was afraid even his words might break Sakura further.

Sakura held his face in his hands and winced. Everything hurt—his chest, his head—even though he had tried his best to brace himself for what Suo had had to say.

"My head hurts so bad," he mumbled, rubbing circles around his temples in a futile attempt to chase away the migraine.

"You should sleep. I'll get you some painkillers."

Suo moved to sit up, but Sakura caught the hem of his changshan before he could leave.

"I don't want to sleep," Sakura said, his grip tightening on the fabric. "I want to talk."

Suo gently took his hand. "Let's talk after you rest—give yourself time to process everything and calm down a bit. I'd hate for us to argue like we did outside Togame's place again."

Sakura took a deep breath. He could be calm. He was calm.

"I'm not sleeping until we talk. And I am calm."

More accurately, he was stubborn.

"Aren't you the stubborn one?" Suo chuckled, but still pushed Sakura's hand away from his changshan. Sakura's chest twisted at the rejection.

Only for Suo to turn and retrieve a painkiller from his nightstand drawer, pouring a glass of water like he had had them ready and waiting from the start.

"Let's take ibuprofen together," Suo said with exaggerated cheer, spreading out his fingers in some gesture Sakura didn't understand.

Sakura stared at him like he had lost his mind.

"No?" Suo scratched his head with what looked like fake embarrassment. "You don't know that meme?"

Sakura's glare could have burned holes through him.

"Oh right, I forgot you only got a smartphone recently," Suo laughed, and Sakura wanted to smack the shit out of him.

"You seem well-stocked on those pills," Sakura commented dryly as he accepted the medication. He downed the entire glass of water in one go—crying had left him completely dehydrated.

"What, you think I'm made of stone? Even an Oyabun gets headaches—especially with a Kobun this troublesome."

"Maybe it would help if you didn’t keep so many secrets from your Kobun," Sakura shot back. "You should know I was ready to follow you to the ends of the earth—"

"And now you're not?" There was something hollow about Suo's smile, the way it never reached his eye. "Even after I just told you we were an inseparable couple that only death could part—or in our case, the Master."

"Are you trying to joke to hide your wound?"

Somehow now with the knowledge of Suo’s past—their past—Sakura felt the sudden shift in their dynamic, like he could be an upper hand once in a while, wrapping Suo around his finger.

There was a beat of silence.

"I just realized you're actually very bold—in a mushy way—every time after you faint," Suo said finally, and this time his smile looked real, like it actually belonged on his face.

Sakura’s hackles raised. Just to rebut. "I'm not mushy."

Suo laughed before lying back down on his side, that single crimson eye studying Sakura's face again. This time he reached out to play with Sakura's hair, and despite everything churning inside him, Sakura let him. There was something about Suo's touch that always managed to settle his nerves.

"Okay, since you're calm now—let's talk."

Sakura took a long moment to sort through the tangle of his thoughts—his emotions.

"Do you know how I lived these past six years?" he finally asked, though it wasn't really a question. "Not just what Kotoha told you."

He needed Suo to understand what those lost years had cost him—what his protection had actually protected him from. It was an opening. A quiet cut into the wound he'd long kept closed.

"I just let life happen. No direction, no purpose. Nothing to look forward to. No family to go back to. The future wasn't gray—it was blank." His voice grew quieter. "I wandered. And maybe I would've just let myself die without a fight if it weren't for Kotoha giving me that food on the curb."

Speaking of Kotoha brought a new well of tears to his eyes. He tried to blink them away. Suo remained silent, listening to him unravel.

"After that, the inn was just a blur of time—a year, or two, or five—it wasn't really that different. I kept my head down, not because the sky wasn't blue, but because I had to wade through disgust and stares to see it." Sakura's hands clenched. "I scrubbed floors, ran errands, got yelled at, spat on—because a sheet was late, or they needed condoms. Or simply because I looked like this." He gestured vaguely at himself. "With my hair and eyes, they called me a freak and worse."

He swallowed hard. "Kotoha didn't get the same treatment. I was happy for her. And sometimes—jealous. I wanted to be normal too—"

Before he could finish, Suo moved forward, cupping his face in both hands. Sakura froze.

"You are normal," Suo said, voice steady with conviction. "No, actually, you're different, but special. You're the most—the only beautiful person I’ve ever know.”

Sakura searched his expression, wanting desperately to believe. "Then why didn't you find me sooner? When I needed to hear that the most? You let me wander for years thinking no one cared.”

Sakura didn’t realize he had raised his voice in the last sentence. Maybe he was angry, truly was, and lashing out was the only outlet he knew at that moment.

Suo’s jaw clenched. He opened his mouth, then closed it. The silence was louder than anything either of them had said.

After a long stretched moment, he finally spoke up again. "You know why. If I reached out, that would've put you straight back in the Master's sight. I couldn't drag you back into danger after you'd finally gotten free."

"What was freedom anyway," Sakura said bitterly, "if the person I loved was held hostage?"

"That's exactly why I stayed away." Suo's voice cracked slightly. "I couldn't let you know about me until the Master was completely taken down. At least then it would be your freedom—your chance at a normal life."

"It was barely a life."

"Sakura—"

Sakura’s voice dropped. “Then why show up again? Missed me already? Or finally missed me too much?”

"I missed you every single day," Suo answered without hesitation, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "But the Master got suspicious when he noticed I was shifting toward legitimate business. He sniffed you out as leverage against me." Suo's expression hardened. "Those three thugs who beat you up in the alley were his men. They were sent to leave you barely alive as a warning to me."

Sakura's breath caught. "How could you know that?"

"My surveillance network. They weren't from your area—outsiders." Suo's voice turned cold. "After we left that alley, I had Kaji lock them up for interrogation."

"Did you—" There was a tremor in Sakura's voice. "Did you kill them?"

"No one has the right to touch what's mine," Suo said, voice turning merciless.

Sakura’s breath caught—not because the words were new, but because of what they meant now.

Suo had always said things like that. Claimed him, guarded him, looked at him like he was something to protect and provoke. But this time—it wasn’t just possessiveness talking. It was laced with that damn love confession—real, raw, and selfish in the way only Suo could make feel sacred.

And Sakura—damn it—he liked it. He liked being his. Even after everything. Even after being kept in the dark for so long. Even if part of him still didn’t know what to do with all of it—Suo’s feelings, his own.

But there was something grounding in those words. Like Suo was drawing a line around him, keeping him safe inside it.

Sakura didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to deal with it yet.

"They were just following orders—" Sakura shook. "You didn't have to—"

Suo flicked his forehead gently. Sakura winced, more from surprise than pain.

"Silly. I didn't kill them, if it helps you sleep at night." Suo's expression softened with something like fondness. "You know what I love about you?"

Sakura flushed. "What?”

"Your conception of fairness, maybe too kind for your own good."

"Then I'm telling you that you were unfair." The words tumbled out despite Sakura's attempt to stay calm. "Maybe you couldn't find me during those years because of the Master—fine, I understand that. But when we met again?“ His voice cracked.

"You’ve always known more than me. You decided when to find me, what to tell me. When do I get a say? Those are my memories too. You remember everything—our first kiss, our promises—and I’m just supposed to take your word for it? How is that fair?"

Suo's hand stilled in his hair, his expression pained. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, resigned yet pleading.

"I know what I did was unfair. Even if you call me selfish, I wouldn't change it." He took a shaky breath. "I stayed silent because I couldn't bear to make you relive that pain. When your mind buried those memories—of me, of the Master, of everything—it was protecting you from something too devastating to face. I couldn't bring myself to tear open wounds your soul had worked so hard to heal."

"But you're telling me now," Sakura said quietly. "And I'm handling it just fine."

That was a lie. His head was chaos, his chest a war zone. But he was still here, still whole, and that should be enough.

"You saw how your body reacted earlier," Suo said gently. "Do you remember what you told me that your body shut down when you have too many thoughts inside your head?”

Sakura nodded. “Yes I remember. I just faint and wake up, and I often feel that odd calmness afterwards, so it’s not a big deal.”

“It was not just simply you fainted because your mind felt tired. You didn’t go to sleep mode with just many thoughts about daily things, right?”

Sakura's throat tightened. He could sense something terrible coming in Suo's careful explanation, the way he was building up to a truth that would shatter them both.

“It's a dissociative response—a defense mechanism your brain uses during stressful or traumatic situations. You have experienced two types of dissociation. The first one is the milder one. Your brain sometimes pulls the plug and forces the body to shut off, like a safety switch, so it doesn’t get more emotionally damaged. You fell into a deep sleep because your mind was trying to protect itself. And you may appear calm or emotionless afterwards but actually overwhelmed inside because your mind and body are disconnecting from each other.”

What Suo was saying was true. Sakura just hadn’t paid much attention to it before. As long as he woke up and be whole, everything would be fine. But that didn’t seem like the whole picture now.

“And what is the second type?”

The sadness in Suo’s eye was profound.

"You forget everything."

Suo's voice cracked on the last word, and Sakura could see the naked terror in his eye—not just fear of Sakura's pain, but fear of being erased from his world again.

“The first time it happened was on that riverbank, when you lost all your memories of me. Your mind erased everything connected to me to survive. It didn’t just forget—it buried everything.”

A long breath left his lungs.

“And that’s why I didn’t want to tell you the truth. Not just because I didn’t want you to relive all that pain—but because I was scared for myself too. What if it happens again? What if forgetting me is the only way your mind knows how to cope?" His voice broke like glass, fragile and bleeding. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing these past months—losing you again."

Sakura’s body was shaking. With rage, regret, guilt? His words choked in his throat. "But if you never told me, I would never know about you, the boy who has loved me for eleven years.”

"It didn't matter if you remembered me, Haruka, I carried you with me always." His voice was barely a whisper. "I just hoped that maybe, even without the memories, your heart would still recognize mine.“

A single tear slipped from Suo's eye as his composure finally cracked. His body shook as he bowed his head and let himself cry. Even his tears were quiet—a lifetime of learning to suffer in silence.

Sakura reached out to him then. He traced away Suo's tears with trembling fingers before cradling his face in both hands. Gently, he pulled Suo's head toward his chest and pressed his ear against where his heart was hammering inside. Suo's hot tears soaked through the fabric of his shirt, and something inside Sakura felt like they were on the riverbank again, wrenched and raw. But this time it was different.

"Maybe I don’t forget this time because my mind knows we won't be separated anymore," Sakura whispered against Suo's hair. "I still can't remember anything from our past, but my heart still aches all the same. I think it does remember you, Suo Hayato."

———

The electricity had gone out sometime after midnight, plunging their small room into complete darkness. Sakura stirred first, disoriented by the sudden absence of the soft hum from the air conditioning unit and the faint glow of the bedside lamp.

He lay still for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the blackness, when he heard it—a soft, distressed sound from the other side of the bed.

Suo was tossing restlessly, his breathing uneven and labored. In the darkness, Sakura could just make out the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the sheets like lifelines.

"Don't—" Suo's voice was barely a whisper, thick with sleep and terror. "Don't touch me."

Sakura's blood ran cold. He turned onto his side, studying Suo's shadowed profile, seeing the way his face contorted in anguish even in sleep.

"Please—no," Suo mumbled, his voice breaking. "It hurts—stop, please stop—"

The raw pain in those words made Sakura's chest tighten. But then Suo's voice changed, became desperate in a different way.

"Haruka," he breathed, the name coming out broken and pleading. "Run—you have to run—" His body jerked suddenly. "No, don't leave me. Don't go where I can't follow—please, don't leave me alone—"

Hearing his name, seeing Suo trapped in this nightmare that seemed to blend past trauma with present fear, Sakura couldn't just lie there. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers barely grazing Suo's shoulder—

Suo's eye snapped open, wild and unseeing in the darkness. But instead of recognition, there was only panic, only the terror of someone still caught between nightmare and reality.

"No!" Suo snarled, his voice feral and desperate.

Before Sakura could react, Suo lunged at him with frightening speed. They tumbled across the bed, Sakura's back hitting the mattress hard as Suo's weight pinned him down. In the darkness, Suo's hands found his throat, fingers wrapping around his neck with terrifying intent.

"Don't touch him," Suo growled, his voice barely human. "I'm gonna kill you—I'll fucking kill you for what you did—"

Sakura gasped, his hands flying up to grab Suo's wrists. The pressure wasn't crushing yet, but he could feel the tremor in Suo's hands, the barely contained violence of someone reliving their worst memories.

"Suo," Sakura managed to choke out, but it seemed to only make Suo's grip tighten.

"You can't have him," Suo whispered, his voice cracking with rage and despair. "Not again—never again—"

"Suo!" Sakura tried again, louder, more desperate. "It's me—Haruka!"

The name cut through whatever hellscape Suo was trapped in. His hands went slack instantly, his entire body freezing as reality crashed back into him. In the darkness, Sakura could hear Suo's sharp intake of breath, could feel him pulling away as if he had been burned.

"Sakura—" Suo whispered, his voice barely audible. "What did I do—"

He scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in his haste to put distance between them. In the faint light filtering through the window, Sakura could see him staring at his own hands like they belonged to someone else—like they were weapons he'd never meant to wield.

"I'm sorry," Suo said, his voice breaking completely as he buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook violently. "I'm so sorry—I thought you were—him—"

The sound that came from him then was raw and broken, somewhere between a sob and a keen of despair.

"I could have—god, I could have killed you."

Sakura sat up slowly, his throat still tender, watching this man who had tried so hard to be strong completely fall apart. Something shifted inside him then, a decision crystallizing with sudden, fierce clarity.

He wanted to fix this. He wanted to heal the broken pieces of this man who had loved him through everything, who had suffered alone for so long that his own mind had turned against him.

Without a word, Sakura moved forward. Suo tensed as he approached, but didn't pull away when Sakura carefully climbed onto his lap, settling his weight against Suo's thighs.

"Sakura, don't—" Suo started, his voice shaking. "I'm not safe. I could hurt you—"

Sakura’s heart clenched painfully as he watched how Suo's protective instincts towards him have twisted into self-destructive isolation, and that horrifying moment where Suo's nightmare bled into reality.

Sakura wanted to fix him. He gently pulled Suo's hands away from his face, ignoring the way they trembled in his grip. With slow motion, he placed those hands on his hips, his own settling on Suo's shoulders to ground him, to anchor them both.

"You won't," Sakura said quietly, his voice steady and sure. "Would it help if I told you a story? The kind I used to tell myself when I couldn’t sleep."

Suo looked up at him, and even in the darkness, his eye burned bright. He nodded slowly, like a lost child.

"When I was in sixth grade, we had this assignment where we presented our favorite toy to the class," Sakura began, his voice soft. "I had no toys—at least, none that was presentable. But I had this jar with a silk cherry blossom inside that my dad made for me on my tenth birthday."

His thumbs traced gentle circles on Suo's shoulders as he spoke. "He folded the flower into a tight bud, and when he placed it in the jar of water, it slowly bloomed open as the silk petals relaxed. It floated there, fragile but beautiful. I used to watch it whenever I felt sad or lonely."

Suo's breathing had begun to even out, and almost unconsciously, he started rubbing slow circles on Sakura's hips—a gentle, grounding rhythm that seemed to calm them both.

"When it was my turn to present, my classmates started snickering. Whispering loud enough for me to hear that it was 'girly,' but I pretended I didn't notice. The teacher had to hush them up." Sakura's voice remained steady, though something like old wounds flickered inside him. "I was in the middle of explaining how the flower was made when the bell rang."

Suo's idle rubbing ceased, a frown creasing his brow. Sakura continued, his grip tightening slightly on Suo's shoulders.

"While I was packing my bag, some boys cornered me. One held me back while another grabbed the jar." His voice caught slightly. "They poured ink into it right in front of me, saying it would 'make me man up'—or maybe they just thought it was funny."

Suo's arms wound around Sakura's back, pulling him into a protective embrace. His chin came to rest on Sakura's chest as he looked up at him with fierce intensity.

"Give me their names," Suo murmured, and there was no humor in his voice. "I'll teach each of them what it really means to be a man."

Sakura huffed and flicked Suo's shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous. They were just kids."

Suo's lips pressed into a stubborn line, and somehow he looked entirely serious about his threat.

"Hey, don't tell me you actually—"

"Please continue," Suo pressed, though his protective hold didn't loosen.

"How do you think I could save the jar?" Sakura asked softly.

"Dump out the inky water and refill it?" Suo suggested, his brows drawn tight but his voice gentler now.

"But the petals would crumple and lose their shapes without water to support them. I couldn't just empty it out." Sakura's hands moved restlessly as he spoke. "I cried, you know? I didn't know how to fix something so ruined."

"What did you do?"

"I brought it home to my dad. He didn't look as upset as I felt—he just called me over and took the jar. Then he began pouring clear water into it, very slowly." Sakura's voice grew warmer with the memory. "The liquid overflowed, carrying the black water with it. It took time, but eventually the water was clear again. The flower was still floating there, still blooming. Some petals were stained dark, but dad told me that even those stains would fade out. All we needed was patience."

"You had a good father," Suo whispered, the ache in his smile raw and real.

"Yeah. I'm grateful I was his son. Even after everything." Sakura's own smile was tinged with sadness, his voice wistful. "The next day, I carried that jar back to class. Those boys stared in shocked as I finished my presentation—and this time I told the class what my dad was trying to teach me.”

Old pride bloomed in Sakura’s chest. He didn’t realize he was grinning.

“The flower was me, surrounded by clear water—all the good things and happy moments in life. When the ink came, like pain and sadness, I just needed to keep adding more clear water until there was no room left for darkness. Healing doesn't come from cutting out the pain all at once—it would make you empty. It comes from gradually adding goodness, love, tenderness—until the darkness has no space left to exist.”

Sakura paused, meeting Suo's gaze and smirked—very smug. "The teacher gave me an A. It was the first time I'd ever gotten the highest grade."

Suo smiled back at him. He looked unexpectedly gentle for someone who always schemed and took every chance to threaten revenge for Sakura.

"Your flower deserved it," Suo murmured, pressing his face into the crook of Sakura's neck. His breath was warm against Sakura's sensitive skin. "Let's go back to your house someday and find that jar. We'll keep it this time."

"I don't know, Suo." Sakura worried his lip. "Maybe it's not there anymore."

Maybe his parents weren't there anymore. Maybe it was all just ruins.

Suo's hold on him tightened. "I'll make you a new flower, Sakura-kun. You know I'm talented at everything."

"I'll look forward to it. Thank you, Suo."

They stayed like that for a long while, soaking in each other’s warmth and matching their breath, until all the traces of earlier incidents were subdued into the shadows.

"Suo," Sakura spoke up, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Let's have sex."

Suo lifted his head, his eye wide, his lips parting in surprise. "What—? I mean, yes, I want to be have sex with you, plenty, but what does this have to do with your bedtime story? Or you just get horny all of the sudden?"

Sakura's hands slid down to press against Suo's chest, gently pushing until Suo was lying on his back, staring up at him with confused wonder.

"Sometimes you really are dumb," Sakura said with fond exasperation, though it came out more like a breath of laughter. "Just like when I put heart-shaped narutomaki in your soup and you never understood what I was trying to tell you."

He leaned down, his voice dropping to something intimate and fierce. "So let me give you that clear water. Let's have sex—over and over again, until all you can remember is my touch. How you feel with my hands on your skin, how your flesh comes alive against mine, how perfectly we fit together. Until the only memories your body holds are the ones we make together, until every ghost of what he did to you is replaced by me."

Suo gazed up at him with wide eye. He looked vulnerable, stripped bare, and beautifully human.

"Then let's kiss properly this time," Suo whispered as he slipped his fingers through the hair at Sakura's nape and drew his face closer until their lips were millimeters apart. "I'm sorry I forced myself on you earlier. My mind was a mess—the fear of you knowing the truth, and you seeking out Togame of all people wasn't helping either. I—it was the only thing I knew to shut someone up and I used it on you—fuck—I'm a terrible person."

Sakura took Suo's guilt as an opportunity to lean down further and bite his chin, earning a sharp hiss.

"Next time you do that to me, I'm gonna bite your tongue off."

Suo huffed out a laugh, his chest rumbling beneath Sakura. "But here’s the thing, puppy: I always bite back."

With that, Suo leaned up and licked across Sakura's lips before pulling back. His tongue was hot. Sakura sucked in a breath.

"Well?"

Sakura's brain short-circuited. He stuttered. "Well what?"

"Are you going to kiss me or not? I'm not going to force myself on you."

That infuriating smirk showed that Suo knew damn well how much Sakura wanted to be forced on at this very moment. Heaving out a huff, Sakura pinched Suo's chest hard enough to make him gasp in surprise, and Sakura seized his chance to lick into his mouth.

His tongue darted in too eagerly, bumping against Suo's teeth before finding its target. Sakura had no idea what he was doing—had never kissed anyone like this before—but the taste of Suo on his tongue made him ache with longing.

He tasted of tea, of tears, of everything Sakura had lost and was desperate to reclaim.

He pressed deeper, trying to map every inch of Suo's mouth with clumsy, desperate strokes. Saliva pooled at the corner of his mouth and he had to pull back for a split second to breathe, his lips already swollen and tingling.

The wet sound of their separation made his face burn, but Suo's half-lidded gaze and parted lips spurred him on. Sakura dove back in, this time catching Suo's lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently—or what he hoped was gently. His movements were uncoordinated, driven more by instinct than skill, but the soft moan that escaped Suo's throat told him he was doing something right.

He thrust his tongue deeper, swirling it around Suo's with more confidence now, though his rhythm was still uneven, still searching. When he accidentally knocked their teeth together in his enthusiasm, he started to pull away in embarrassment.

Sakura realized it then. Suo hadn't kissed him back even for a moment. Something twisted uglily in his chest. Was Sakura too aggressive and taking too much? Did he kiss that bad?

"What?" Sakura blurted out. "Did I kiss that bad?"

He loosened his grips on Suo's shoulders and held his breath. He was shaking. In embarrassment, disappointment, hurt? He didn't know.

That seemed to snap Suo out of his trance. His hand on the back of Sakura's neck tightened and kept him close.

"I was just too happy."

His statement was simple—should have been simple, but deep down they both knew this was the first time Suo got to kiss someone he loved somewhere he could feel safe inside. Sakura’s heart ached for him.

”Me too,” Sakura whispered back against his lips.

Suo didn’t hesitate this time as his mouth crashed against Sakura’s with a hunger that stole his breath. If he had to describe Suo’s kiss with one word, it would be consuming. Suo's lips moved against his with practiced precision, claiming every inch of his mouth like he was trying to devour him whole.

Suo's tongue thrust deep, immediately seeking out Sakura's and wrapping around it with a pressure that made Sakura's vision blur. He sucked on Sakura's tongue so hard that spots danced behind Sakura's eyelids, the sensation bordering on too much but not nearly enough. Heat pooled in his core, making him arch his back and ground his hips down Suo’s. They both groaned deep in their chests.

Suo's hand raked through his hair to hold his face impossibly closer, tilting his head to a better angle, and bit on his lower lip. The slight pain sent electricity straight down Sakura's spine. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—only feel Suo’s mouth dragging him deeper into the fire. Every time he tried to pull back for air, Suo followed, chasing his lips with single-minded determination.

"Haruka," Suo gasped against his mouth, the word vibrating between them before he sealed their lips together again.

He bit down on Sakura's lower lip, hard enough to sting, then soothed it with his tongue. The contrast made Sakura whimper, a sound that seemed to drive Suo wild. Saliva ran down their chins, messy and desperate, but neither of them cared.

When Suo finally pulled back, they were both gasping, strings of saliva connecting their swollen lips. Sakura's mouth felt raw, oversensitive, but he was already leaning in for more when Suo's thumb pressed against his bottom lip.

"I want to see it," Suo whispered, his voice wrecked and hoarse. "Your tattoo."

Sakura had never taken off his shirt that fast. The fabric went flying somewhere behind him as he yanked it over his head in one swift motion, his hair falling messily back into place. Cool air hit his heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the way Suo's gaze burned across his body.

Suo's dark eye pinned him in place, drinking in the tattoo sprawled across Sakura's chest—a fierce black and white tiger with golden and crimson eyes glinting through tangled blossom trees, a gold-streaked moon glowing above.

Suo's hand clamped onto Sakura's hip, fingers digging in with possessive force that made Sakura's breath hitch. Heat flooded his cheeks as he fought the urge to squirm under that burning stare. Suo lifted his other hand and pressed his palm firmly over the tiger's snarling face, right where Sakura's heart thundered wild and exposed. The touch sent electricity through him, as if Suo could feel every frantic beat.

For a fleeting moment, Suo's gaze softened. His fingertips traced the tiger's eyes with slow, reverent intensity, each stroke pulling goosebumps across Sakura's skin. Sakura's face flamed as a shaky gasp slipped out, Suo's touch unraveling him completely, tethering his racing heart to the searing connection between them.

"At that time, I just thought of changing the color to your red as a symbol of devotion," Sakura whispered, placing his hand over Suo's where it rested on his chest. "But now that I know the truth, maybe some unconscious part of me wanted to keep something that you lost."

"I think we found it now." Suo smiled up at him, thumb rubbing over the red eye of the tiger as his eye locked on Sakura’s.

Sakura's heart was pounding so wildly Suo must have felt it. Even half-undressed and tangled together, he still felt that familiar flutter of shyness at the raw intimacy in Suo's voice. Gently lifting Suo's hand from his chest, he pressed it against his cheek, leaning into the warmth of that familiar palm. He rubbed against it as Suo's fingers traced the curve of his ear, and Sakura couldn't help the soft purr that escaped his throat.

"Kiryu did excellent work bringing out the colors. I might give him a raise,” Suo said as he continued petting and scratching his ear.

"He told me you cried when you got your first tattoo."

There was a beat.

"Well, maybe I should just fire him for running his mouth."

Sakura snorted and slapped Suo's chest playfully. He could be so petty sometimes—no, most of the times, when it came to Sakura.

"I want to touch yours too," Sakura said, fingers working at the buttons of Suo's changshan. "You don't know how hard it was to keep from drooling every time your tattoo peeked out of your yukata during training."

"Actually, I do know." Suo's smirk was wicked as his hand slid from Sakura's hip to slip beneath his waistband, fingers teasing the curve of his ass and making Sakura jolt. "That's exactly why I wore yukata around you. Much easier to pin you down when you were distracted."

“What—ah—“

Sakura’s question died as Suo’s hand slid around his back, yanking him down so fast the air fled his lungs. Sakura's chest crashed against Suo's face, their bodies colliding and molding together. The abrupt motion sent Sakura's hips sliding forward, dragging their crotches together in a burning grind that tore a choked gasp from his throat.

Suo's mouth immediately found the tiger tattoo, lips trailing open-mouthed kisses that seared like brands across Sakura's flushed skin as Suo sucked dark hickeys into the tender flesh. Sakura's strength melted away, his body surrendering as he collapsed against Suo, limbs trembling with the intensity. His fingers threaded through Suo's hair as he held his face even closer to his chest.

Suo's mouth found one of Sakura's nipples, tongue circling before his lips closed around the sensitive peak. He sucked hard, making Sakura gasp, then scraped his teeth across the flesh. The mix of wet heat and sharp teeth had Sakura arching, his grip tightening in Suo's hair. Suo pulled back and blew cool air across the wet skin, making Sakura shiver, before biting down hard enough to bruise. His tongue followed immediately, rough strokes that made Sakura's hips jerk involuntarily.

Suo switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment until Sakura was trembling against him, oversensitive and breathless. Every flick of tongue, every scrape of teeth had him twitching, small whimpers escaping his throat as his body grew too responsive to Suo's touch.

“Ah—Suo—too sensitive,” Sakura’s panted, voice muffled against Suo’s hair.

Suo finally took pity on him and pulled away from Sakura’s chest, his lips slick and shining under the dim light. Sakura looked down and saw his nipples a darker shade of rosy. His cheeks burned at the thought he could feel the twinge days afterwards with how puffy they looked now.

Suo didn’t let Sakura catch his breath, nudging Sakura’s legs up with steady, impatient hands, yanking his pants down and tossing them into the shadows. His palms slid under Sakura, grabbing two handfuls of his ass, pulling him higher across his chest until Sakura’s thighs caged his head.

Sakura’s palms slammed against the headboard, fingers digging in to keep from toppling. Suo’s face was inches from Sakura’s cock, his warm breath hitting the skin, making Sakura’s pulse spike and his chest tighten.

“Everything about you is perfect —even your cock’s pretty,” Suo said with a low chuckle, his hand wrapping around Sakura’s shaft.

Sakura sucked in a breath, a sharp shock ripping through him as Suo’s fingers moved, stroking and pulling on his foreskin. Suo’s mouth moved lower, lips brushing Sakura’s balls, tongue flicking out to tease and explore. He licked slow, wet drags on the strip between them, then sucked each one gently, rolling them against his tongue. Sakura’s hips twitched violently, a choked moan escaping as his knuckles whitened on the headboard, every nerve sparking under Suo’s touch.

Suo’s free hand gripped Sakura’s ass, urging his hips higher until his trembling thighs pressed tight against Suo’s ears. With a firm, hungry tug, he spread Sakura’s cheeks wide and leaned in.

“Suo—”

Sakura’s breath caught as Suo’s lips brushed his entrance, pressing soft kisses with agonizing care. He sucked gently on the sensitive rim, pulling a choked whimper from Sakura’s throat, then traced slow, teasing licks that sent raw heat spiking through his core.

Sakura’s thighs spread wider, instinct driving his ass down harder onto Suo’s face. Only when Suo’s nose pressed against the tender skin between his balls and hole did Sakura realize he was fully face-sitting him.

“S-Suo, sorry,” Sakura stammered, lifting his hips in embarrassment. “Can you breathe?”

Suo’s hand shot to Sakura’s hip, yanking him back down with a low growl. “Don’t move unless I say.”

The sharp command froze Sakura, his body sinking back with a weak whimper. Suo didn’t hesitate, pressing his tongue firmly against the rim until it breached the tight ring. Sakura choked out a deep moan as Suo swirled deep inside, wet, searing strokes sending pleasure straight to his cock which was twitching violently in Suo’s tight grip. His fingers clawed the headboard, body shuddering.

Suo’s hand pumped Sakura’s cock steadily, thumb grazing the slit to draw oversensitive gasps. His mouth kept working, groans vibrating through Sakura’s core. Suo clearly relished eating him out. Sakura surrendered to instinct and let his body get what it wanted. He swayed his ass back and forth on Suo’s face, chasing the intense friction from the hand on his cock and the brilliant tongue dragging along his inner walls with relentless, searing strokes.

Sakura’s body tensed all of the sudden and a sharp cry tearing from his throat as the climax slammed into him. Hot release spilled across his stomach and Suo’s hand, some dripping down to streak Suo’s face. His grip on the headboard faltered, one hand slipping to clutch Suo’s head, fingers tangling tightly in his hair. Sakura’s thighs clamped hard around Suo’s ears, trembling as he ground down, riding out the waves of his orgasm.

Suo’s tongue never stopped, swirling deep inside, while his hand slowed its strokes, coaxing every last shudder from Sakura’s oversensitive body until he slumped, breathless and spent.

“Heh,” Suo smirked, darting out his tongue to lick away Sakura’s come on the corner of his mouth. He didn’t need to look so fucking sexy doing it, making Sakura want to lean down and lick him too. “Your body is too easy to satisfy.”

“It’s only because it’s you—you’re too good at this,” Sakura panted, his breath still ragged.

He exhaled shakily before collapsing backward onto Suo’s body, too spent to care. Suo was still in his clothes, the bulge in his pants pressing hard against Sakura’s back, but Sakura was too busy on catching his breath. Suo could wait—Sakura needed a moment to recover before tackling that monster cock later.

Sakura chuckled at the thought. He was the one who had asked to touch and pleasure Suo but now he was already on the brink of sleep. The way Suo was swirling the come on his stomach in soothing circles didn’t help his sated body either. Maybe he could ask Suo for some cuddles—

Before Sakura could speak, Suo shifted beneath him, sitting up and sliding Sakura’s thighs to sprawl over his own. With a swift tug, Suo unzipped his pants, yanking his cock free from his briefs. Sakura’s eyes widened.

It was not his first time seeing it now, but its size still left him pale. Thick, heavy, with prominent veins running along the shaft, pulsing under the skin. The cockhead was broad, flushed a deep red, glistening slightly at the tip, and looked almost too big to handle, making Sakura wonder how it had ever fit inside him.

“Are—are we gonna fuck now?” Sakura stammered, voice shaky with nerves and lingering heat.

Suo trailed his fingers through the come splattered on Sakura’s stomach, scooping up a thick smear and working it between his fingers until they glistened, slick and sticky.

“You lying there is enough,” Suo murmured, voice low and rough with want, as he wrapped his come-coated hand around his throbbing cock, stroking slowly. “We don’t need to fuck for this to be sex.”

Sakura’s breath faltered as Suo’s crimson eye roamed over his sprawled, sweat-slicked body, the gaze hungry and heated with want. Suo’s changshan was hung open, revealing a vivid tattoo of a fox chasing a cherry blossom across his chiseled chest, the inked lines rippling as his toned muscles flexed with each pump of his thick cock. Precome was oozing from the tip of his cock, and Sakura salivated with the urge to lick and taste him.

The sight Suo was making surely was to rile him up. His veined hand slick with Sakura’s come dragging up and down his shaft , the taut pull of his abs, the raw intensity in his stare—it all sent a jolt through Sakura’s spent body. His cock twitched back to life, a weak throb stirring in his core, and his hole clenched, aching with a sudden, desperate need to be filled.

“But now I want you to fuck me, Suo-san,” Sakura whimpered. His plea was nothing more than a helpless whisper.

Suo’s crimson eye was hazy with lust, but that sly smirk curled back in full force. “Look at what we have here. A fierce tiger reduced to a needy little kitten.”

Sakura’s hands drifted up, fingers grazing his own chest, idly teasing his nipples as he squirmed under Suo’s gaze. “Who cares anyway. As long as it’s you taming me.”

Suo’s hand froze mid-stroke on his cock. Sakura knew he'd hit the right spot. Suo always loved being in control. Sakura could wrap him around his finger and get exactly what he wanted—as long as he let Suo believe he was the one taking the lead.

Suo leaned toward the bedside table, yanking the drawer open with a sharp tug. He grabbed a small tube and flicked it onto Sakura’s stomach. Sakura picked it up, turning it over curiously.

“You masturbate too?” Sakura asked, sitting up to face Suo, surprise lacing his voice. He’d always assumed Suo shied away from sex, especially after everything he’d been through.

Suo looked at him like he was dumb.

“Of course. I do it thinking of you.”

Sakura's face went crimson, the heat spreading from his cheeks down his neck. He knew Suo had loved him for so long, but hearing it confessed so bluntly—in such raw, physical terms—still left him reeling. The casual admission hit him like a punch, and his mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he processed what Suo had just said so matter-of-factly.

"You—" Sakura started, then stopped, his brain scrambling to catch up with his racing pulse.

The blush deepened, and he could feel the warmth radiating from his skin and Suo must have felt this too, because he was snickering.

“Oh why, you’re blushing. How cute,” Suo chuckled as he took the tube from Sakura and uncapped before squirting a generous amount onto his fingers, the cool liquid smothering Sakura’s heated state. “Now, finger yourself and get ready for me.”

No. Maybe Sakura couldn’t wrap him around his finger at all.

Sakura’s cheeks burned, but he obeyed, reaching down with slick fingers, the cool lube smearing across his heated skin. Hesitantly, he pressed one finger into his hole, then a second, gasping at the stretch as he scissored them, spreading his rim with slow, trembling thrusts. Suo’s crimson eye fixed on him, his hand lazily pumping his thick cock, a low hum of approval escaping his lips as Sakura whimpered, hips twitching against his own fingers.

“Add a third,” Suo commanded, voice sharp and expectant.

Sakura nodded, pushing in another finger in slowly, the fuller stretch pulling a shaky moan from his throat. He worked his fingers deeper, thrusting and curling them to loosen his tight hole, each movement sending sharp sparks of pleasure through him as he prepped for Suo’s massive cock. When he finally felt ready, he slid his fingers out, his gaping hole clenching around nothing, the aching thirst overwhelming.

Desperate, Sakura shifted, climbing onto Suo’s lap, positioning himself over that massive cock, and sank down.

The thick head breached his entrance, and the groan that ripped from his throat was anything but small. Suo's hands fastened on his hips immediately, gripping tightly to stop him before he could impale himself further.

“Fuck—“ Suo’s curse came muffled against Sakura’s neck. “Don’t hurt yourself like that.”

Now that they were connected, Sakura's heart was a tangle of confusion. What was he doing? Trying to fix Suo? Heal him from old wounds? Or something deeper that he couldn't name yet?

Did he have feelings for Suo—the man who was his Oyabun, whose protection he had lived under these past months? Or was some unconscious part of him still clinging to the feelings for the Suo from their forgotten past? He didn't know the answer, couldn't distinguish present affection from buried memory. But one thing he knew with crystal clarity: his body yearned for Suo's touch.

"I want you, Suo," Sakura whispered. Suo's head snapped up to look at him, intense emotions dancing in his crimson eye. "Let me feel you. I need you to feel me too."

Something must have broke inside Suo at Sakura’s raw admission. He let out a guttural sound—half-growl, half-moan—as his restraint finally snapped. His hands locked around Sakura’s hips and yanked him down hard, driving his cock in to the hilt. The sudden depth punched the air from Sakura’s lungs. His body jerked, back arching as a strained moan broke from him. The stretch was brutal, his muscles twitching around the thick length buried inside.

“Haruka,” Suo's whisper of his name was so soft, so tender, it melted the searing pain away. “When I’m inside you I can’t think straight. If I hurt you—“

“Then don’t think,” Sakura whispered, cutting him off. “Just feel me. Please.”

And then Sakura started to move, hips lifting in shaky rhythm, each descent forcing Suo’s cock deeper, dragging against every sensitive inch. His thighs trembled, breath coming in broken pants as he fought to keep pace.

Suo's arm wrapped tight around his neck, dragging his face in for a kiss that spoke volumes. He kept whispering Sakura's given name as their mouths moved together, desperate and searching. Each breath between kisses carried his name like a prayer, like Suo couldn't bear to let the sound fade from his lips.

The kiss deepened, all heat and need and years of longing finally spilling over, until Sakura could taste the devotion in every press of Suo's mouth against his. Suo thrust his tongue into Sakura’s mouth, deep and claiming, and their tongues tangled, swirling and sliding against each other with growing hunger, the kiss turning wet and breathless as they devoured each other.

Suo’s other hand flattened against Sakura’s chest, fingers digging into heated skin, then rubbing a nipple hard enough to draw a hiss. He rolled it slowly, then again, until Sakura whimpered into his mouth, bucking harder against him.

Suo broke the kiss to trail his mouth down Sakura’s jaw, leaving wet, hot kisses before moving to his ear, teeth grazing the lobe just enough to make him twitch.

“More,” Sakura murmured, leaning into his mouth.

Suo’s lips trailed around the shell before he licked into it slowly, tongue dragging along every ridge and dip while his breath hit hot against the wet skin, making Sakura shudder. Then he latched onto the lobe, sucking hard, teeth grazing the tender flesh before his tongue curled around it, flicking and teasing with obscene slurps until Sakura’s whole body shook from the sharp jolt of pleasure that shot straight down his spine.

Suo’s hand slid down from his chest to grab Sakura’s ass in a tight grip, fingers sinking in the plumb flesh as he pushed his hips down harder to meet his every thrust.

Sakura was losing himself to the pleasure of Suo inside him—around him, everywhere. His rhythm broke apart as he bounced on Suo’s cock, thighs trembling with every downward grind. Each time the thick length slammed into him, it struck that deep bundle of nerves that made his vision go white, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. His cock, flushed and leaking, was trapped between them, sliding wetly against Suo’s rigid torso with every thrust. Precome smearing across their bodies, the friction was maddening.

The way Suo filled him impossibly full and stretched him open again and again made Sakura feel split down the center, nerves frayed and burning. His fingers raked through Suo’s long strands and grip his hair tightly as his entire frame quaked under the weight of mounting pleasure.

“I’m close,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Please—Suo—fuck—”

“You’re not coming yet,” Suo growled, voice like gravel. He grabbed Sakura’s ass, spreading him wide. “You’re not done until I say.”

Sakura whimpered as Suo planted his feet on the sheets and thrust up hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, each brutal stroke hitting Sakura’s prostate dead-on, again and again, leaving him shaking violently and gasping on breath.

Suo leaned in closer and his mouth found Sakura’s chest again, teeth sinking into a nipple, tugging, biting, sucking until Sakura’s moans turned into helpless cries. The pain shot straight to his cock, but he couldn’t come unless Suo let him.

Sakura broke, and he hadn’t realized the tears that had been streaming down his cheeks. The pleasure was overwhelming it bordered on pain.

“Please, Suo. Let me come—“ he sobbed, his head shaking as Suo kept drilling his prostate. “I can’t—anymore, please.”

Suo’s rhythm turned frantic before he delivered the last brutal thrust as his hands yanked Sakura down to lock onto him.

“Haruka, come.” Suo’s command cut through Sakura’s haze like arrow drawing tight before snapping.

Sakura’s back arched as a scream tore from him. His climax hit like a wave crashing over rock—violent, unstoppable. He came hard, come splattering between their bodies, hips jerking as his body convulsed. He could feel himself spasming and clenching around Suo’s pulsing cock uncontrollably. And with a low groan that tore through his throat, Suo rode his climax with Sakura, flooding his insides with thick, pulsing spills of his seeds.

When Suo lifted him up from his softening cock, his hole was gaping and dripping out Suo’s come that soaked the sheets. Both Sakura’s body and mind were all tingling and mushy as Suo manhandled him, laying his pliant limps down on the cleaner side of the bed.

"Let me get some tissues," Suo said as he moved off the bed. Sakura's hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Stay. My ass can wait," he murmured and rubbed at his sleepy eyes. "I want to cuddle."

Suo smiled indulgently at him before lying down next to him. Sakura instantly snuggled closer into his chest and let himself be wrapped in Suo's embrace. Suo was playing with Sakura's sweaty hair with soothing motions, pulling him deeper into a sleepy state.

A vibration on the bedside table. Suo reached over Sakura to check his phone. The annoyance in the huff of breath he let out was palpable and almost comical.

"What is it?" Sakura mumbled against his chest.

"Togame." Suo clicked his tongue. "He saw us kissing on the street."

"Oh god." Sakura held his face in his hands. "He won't let me hear the end of it if we meet again."

Suo was silent, typing rapidly on his phone.
"What are you texting back?" Sakura asked as he turned and yanked the phone from Suo's hand to see the texts. "Don't fucking make it worse!"

Suo took the phone from him and tossed it elsewhere. His smile was very unkind. "I just need to make sure he knows who you belong to."

Sakura sputtered. He could feel steam shooting out his ears, but he knew better than to argue with Suo, especially after what had just happened—after letting Suo have complete control even over his own orgasm.

Sakura grabbed the nearest subject to hide his embarrassment—something that had been nagging at him. "How did you know I was at Togame's place anyway?"

Suo reached for his hand and held it up between them. His thumb rubbed the sapphire on Sakura's ring. "I told you this is also a tool, not just a proposal ring."

Sakura's brain couldn't decide which was more unsettling to focus on. If he pressed on the latter, Suo would surely seize the opportunity to get him even more flustered with wedding scenario where Sakura would barely get through saying Yes, I do before Suo would jump him right in front of the whole Hayato-gumi. He decided to stick with the accusation.

"You put a tracker on me?" His voice rose, trying to sound as mad as possible. "You can't just control me like that.”

With one swift movement, Suo was climbing over him, settling his weight across Sakura's hips as his legs bracketed either side of his body. Sakura didn't resist—couldn't resist—as Suo's hands found his wrists, fingers wrapping around them with firm pressure. Suo dragged his arms up in one smooth motion until they were pinned above his head against the pillow.

The shift left Sakura completely exposed beneath him, chest rising and falling in short, uneven breaths as he stared up at Suo's satisfied expression.

"Why don't we cut to the chase, huh?" Suo leaned down until his mouth brushed softly over Sakura's lips as he spoke. "We both know how much you love being controlled by me now."

Sakura gulped and turned his face away. If he kept staring into that crimson gaze, he wasn't sure he could hold himself together. And he was absolutely blaming the twitch of his cock on the friction from squirming under Suo's hold, trying to break free.
Suo grabbed both his wrists in one hand and used his free hand to grip his chin, forcing Sakura to face him again.

"You love it, do you?" Suo pressed again. His voice was velvet, and Sakura shuddered, all traces of sleep gone. The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

"Yes, I do."

With that, Suo kissed him. The kiss was nothing short of hungry and consuming. Suo's mouth crashed against his with bruising force, all teeth and tongue and desperate need. Their lips moved frantically together, breaking apart only for wet gasps before diving back in. Suo's tongue swept into his mouth, claiming every inch, while Sakura could do nothing but surrender to the overwhelming heat of it.

Suo shifted, pressing their cocks together, grinding slowly with a slick, heated drag that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through Sakura’s body. Each roll of Suo’s hips intensified the friction, making Sakura’s oversensitive shaft throb against the pulsing veins of Suo’s thick length.

It seemed like Suo hadn't gotten his fill of Sakura. Who could blame him though? Sakura thought. Suo had waited six years for this night where he could spend his time making love to the man he loved, and for Sakura, this was his first time having sex with Suo with the knowledge of their true identities.

Their precum mixed in hot smears, coating their cocks and easing the grind between them with slicker slides. But even through the haze, a new hunger rose up, burning in his chest.

“Feed me your cock,” he whispered, breath trembling against his lips.

Suo stilled, looking down at him like he was watching something sacred fall apart beneath his hands. His chest rose, slow and heavy, and his hand came up to cradle Sakura’s jaw—not rough, not hesitant either. Just grounding.

“You know you can’t take all of me,” he murmured, thumb brushing over Sakura’s spit-slick lower lip and dragged it down a little to show his teeth. “You can barely breathe when I’m inside you.”

“I don’t care,” Sakura breathed. “I’ll take what I can. I need to taste you.”

Suo’s eyes darkened, not just with lust—but with something heavier. Possession.

“Don’t move.”

Suo’s hand still held his wrists as he climbed up, straddling Sakura’s chest, his cock flushed and dripping as it hovered just above those waiting lips.

“You always ask so sweet,” Suo chuckled, guiding his cock down until it rubbed on Sakura’s lips, making them glistening. “Greedy little mouth. You want it that bad?”

Sakura nodded, lips parting as his tongue flicked out to catch the first drop of precum. It was salty. “Please.”

Suo groaned, the sound torn and low. “Alright, kitten. Keep your mouth open for me, and remember to breathe.”

He guided the head in slowly, letting Sakura adjust to the stretch. Even with his jaw relaxed wide, it was a struggle—Suo’s cock was too thick—too much to take all at once. Sakura managed barely two-thirds before his throat constricted, eyes watering from the intrusion. He gagged but held still, keep his mouth open as he got used to the intense sensation.

“You’re doing so good,” Suo whispered, softly brushing Sakura’s hair off his sweaty forehead with one hand while the other stayed wrapped tight around the base of his cock. “Nod when you’re ready to take me and pinch my hips if it’s too much.”

Sakura moaned around him, the sound muffled as he tried to even his breath. When he adjusted to the stretch and how Suo’s cockhead touch the back of his throat, he gave him a soft nod.

His throat flexed around the girth, spit leaking from the corners of his mouth as Suo’s hips moved in shallow rolls at first, careful and controlled—feeding him just enough to keep him full but not choking.

“You don’t need to take it all,” Suo said, voice rough now, his thumb stroking the curve of Sakura’s cheek. “Just this much. You’re taking me so well, good boy.”

He picked up the pace—measured, deep thrusts that made Sakura’s throat flutter around him. Every time he bottomed out against that point, where Sakura’s mouth could stretch no further, he paused, grinding forward with a low groan.

Sakura’s nails dug into Suo’s thighs, not in protest, but in desperation—pulling him closer, anchoring himself. His lungs burned, jaw aching, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t, until he could taste all of him.

Sakura moaned around Suo’s cock, the vibration dragging a harsh curse from Suo’s lips. He pulled back just enough to catch a breath, then sank forward again, sucking him deep, letting his throat flex and tighten around the thick shaft. His tongue traced and pressed on the sensitive underside, feeling every throb of the thick vein pulsing against it. Then, with a sharp inhale through his nose, he hollowed his cheeks and swallowed hard, throat constricting tight.

Suo broke with a guttural groan, hips jerking as he came, hot and thick down Sakura’s throat. His hands locked around Sakura’s head, holding him still, as wave after wave spilled from him. Sakura took it all, swallowing around the weight of it, the taste searing and flooding all his senses, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes as Suo shuddered above him.

“Sakura-kun,” Suo gasped, his composure unraveling. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Sakura realized it then.

It was the first time Suo had called him Sakura since they'd started tonight, instead of Haruka. He loved hearing Suo say his given name, but this Haruka Sakura—who had met Suo for the first time in that alleyway—had always been Sakura-kun to Suo. His need for Suo to love both versions of him was as overwhelming as it was painful.

And now, hearing Suo call for him like this, the ache in his chest that had been there since their past was revealed finally quieted, replaced by something warm, fragile, and terrifyingly real.

"Suo," Sakura rasped when Suo gently pulled his cock away from Sakura's abused mouth. "Reward me. I need to feel you inside me."

Suo slid down between Sakura’s open thighs, spreading them wider with steady hands. His breath was hot against Sakura’s skin, and for a moment, Sakura thought he was about to be rimmed again—his body tensed in anticipation, his hole clenching.

But Suo didn’t go lower. Instead, he pressed a slow kiss to the soft patch of skin between Sakura’s balls and entrance. The spot was already sensitive from their earlier friction, but when Suo flattened his tongue and pressed the tip hard against it, a sharp gasp escaped Sakura's throat.

“What—what is that?” he panted, hips twitching up without meaning to.

Suo glanced up at him, lips still brushing that tender seam. “It’s called the perineum,” he said calmly, almost clinical, though his voice was low with heat. “It’s the closest point to your prostate from the outside. Pressure here makes it light up—especially when I’m inside you too.”

And then he followed through. Two slick fingers pushed inside Sakura again, slow but purposeful, already knowing the angle. They sunk in to the hilt with the ease of his come earlier. He curled them just enough to press against Sakura’s prostate along the inner wall, that small knot of nerves that made Sakura’s thighs twitch and his breath stutter. Suo didn’t just touch it—he worked it. He dragged the pads of his fingers across it in tight strokes, pressing it between his fingers and releasing, coaxing the tension to bloom deeper inside him.

At the same time, his mouth stayed locked to that sensitive strip of skin just outside, his tongue moving in tight, rhythmic circles while he sucked, drawing blood to the surface. The dual sensation was maddening, making Sakura shaking beneath him.

Sakura cried out, half-choked, his whole body flexing as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling. “Ah—Suo, how does it feel like this—all at once?”

Suo’s voice came steady, fingers grinding tight against the swollen gland inside. “Tell me. What does it feel like?”

“It—it feels like I’m going to come already—like I can’t even stop it, like my body’s locked around you.” Sakura’s hands scrabbled at the sheets, his thighs trembling violently. “Where did you learn it?”

And then, immediately, guilt swelled inside his chest at the unintentional implication of that question. “I didn’t mean— I shouldn’t have asked that.”

But Suo didn’t flinch. His fingers never stopped moving—rubbing, pressing, coaxing Sakura’s prostate with unrelenting attention—while his mouth sucked another pulse of heat into the seam below.

“I didn’t learn it by being touched, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Suo said simply, voice quiet but certain. “I studied and did my research. I learned every way to make you fall apart—so I could do it right. For you.”

His lips pressed another kiss to the perineum, tender this time, almost reverent. “I’m still learning you.”

Everything blurred into a haze after that. Suo's touches, his words—they did something to Sakura, like carefully stitching together all the fractured pieces inside him. Every gentle caress, every whispered word against his skin, felt like it was filling the hollow spaces that his memory loss had carved out, warming the parts of him that had been cold and empty for so long. The cracks in his mind, those missing years, seemed to seal with something fragile but undeniably real.

Sakura could barely think—only feel—and what he felt was completeness. Suo everywhere, making him whole again.

Suo finally withdrew his fingers and knelt between Sakura’s spread thighs. His hands came to rest on either side of Sakura’s ass, thumbs digging in to spread his hole open. And then his cock pressed in again and Sakura gasped, a low moan falling from his lips as Suo sank deep, filling him up with his heat.

The stretch wasn't as overwhelming this time—his body was already open, already shaped to Suo—but at this angle, Suo's cock felt impossibly deep, grinding into a spot that made his toes curl and his breath catch. Each thrust came slow, steady, but hard enough to rock him against the sheets, to remind him who was inside him.

Sakura reached up, arms shaking, and wrapped them around Suo's neck. He tugged him down, needing his mouth, needing the closeness. Their lips met in a kiss that was tender, quiet and lingering—like they were memorizing each other again.

When they finally pulled apart, Sakura's voice was barely a whisper. "You feel so deep inside me right now."

Suo's eye darkened, and he pressed a wide, warm palm against Sakura's stomach, pushing down just enough to feel himself move within him.

"Deep until here?" he murmured.

Sakura blinked up at him, breath hitching. Then he reached for Suo's hand with trembling fingers, lifted it gently from his belly, and guided it up—higher—until it rested over the frantic beat of his heart.

"Deep until here," he whispered.

Suo froze for a moment, the darkness in his eye giving way to something that glimmered like starlight as they held their breath. Then he leaned down again, pressing his forehead to Sakura's as he moved inside him—closer, deeper, as if he could bury himself there and never leave.

“Thank you so much, Sakura-kun.”

Chapter Text

It was well past midnight, and the only sound in the room was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall—a steady, quiet reminder of how long they had been at this. The rest of the mansion was asleep, buried under a heavy blanket of silence, but this room remained alive, lit by the low, persistent glow of laptop screens.

Nirei sat at the central desk, fingers moving swiftly across his keyboard, muttering to himself as he compiled and cross-checked lines of data. On the sofa tucked along the side of his office instead of at the desk, Sakura hunched forward a low table with a furrowed brow, eyes fixed on the open file on his laptop.

Suo had chosen to sit next to him, their shoulders nearly brushing as they leaned over the same laptop. Rather than working from his own device, he had quietly decided to scan the data beside Sakura—offering no reason, though none was needed. It was subtle, but the closeness said enough.

Ever since their return from District 4 two weeks ago, Suo had been wearing that same quiet contentment—a small, almost secretive smile that seemed permanently fixed at the corners of his mouth, as if nothing in the world could spoil his mood.

Not even now, in the middle of a meeting laced with tension and pressure. With Takiishi still holding the district and their position unstable, the smile should have looked out of place. But on Suo, it made him look softer. And though Sakura didn’t want to admit it out loud, he already had a guess why.

The data they were reviewing had been assembled piece by piece over the last few days—most of it thanks to Sako. The boy had been working quietly in District 4’s mining sector, embedded so deeply that even those around him didn’t know who he really worked for.

Under Suo’s instructions, Sako had tracked shipping schedules, export manifests, and inventory cycles, all smuggled out through encrypted channels. Everything had arrived clean—discreet. And when Suo’s team ran those files against outside shipping logs, the shape of something calculated had begun to emerge.

Sakura’s eyes skimmed the spreadsheet for the third time, his brow furrowed. Something about the pattern tugged at him—irregular, almost too precise. He shifted slightly, meaning to speak, but paused when he turned and found Suo’s gaze already on him. Not on the screen. On him.

A quiet intensity burned in that crimson eye, a look that had nothing to do with contraband minerals and everything to do with the night in District 4. For half a second, the spreadsheet blurred, the weight of their mission dissolving into the memory of Suo’s touch.

A flush crept up Sakura's neck. He was a Kobun in a war meeting, not a lover basking in an afterglow. He forced the thought down, jabbing a finger at the screen to sever the connection, to drag them both back to the cold, hard data.

“Here,” he said, voice firmer than he felt. “Takiishi isn’t selling the minerals straight out of District 4. He’s shipping them to District 2. Same route. Same schedule. But the quantity’s small—controlled. Like he’s saving it up for something.”

Suo hummed low in his throat, eyes flicking over the log again with renewed focus. “He’s preparing for something,” he murmured, the soft smile fading into something cooler—calculating. “He wouldn’t hold it back unless the timing mattered. That kind of stockpiling in District 2, I think it’s not for storage. It’s for display.”

He sat up straighter and turned slightly toward the desk. “Nirei,” he called.

The clicking of keys paused, and Nirei’s chair swiveled halfway toward them. “Yeah?”

“Cross-check the dates of those shipments with high-tier hotel bookings in District 2. Focus on the luxury-tier—anything with blackout privacy policies. And see if there's been an increase in both domestic and international arrivals in the last ten days.”

Nirei raised a brow but said nothing, already turning back to his screen. Sakura watched the glow from the monitor reflect off his glasses as he worked, hands flying across the keys again.

“Got something,” Nirei said a few minutes later, eyes still locked to his screen. “Luxury hotels within a ten-block radius of the drop site are nearly at full capacity for the weekend. Most of the bookings are anonymized, but several are flagged under diplomatic or foreign syndicate protections.”

A beat passed. Suo leaned back against the sofa with a quiet exhale, fingers laced together loosely in his lap. The corners of his lips curved again, this time with no softness—just certainty.

“He’s holding an auction,” Suo said. “Private one. Selling to the kind of people who know what to do with those minerals and to make it matter.”

Sakura sat back slowly, heart pacing just a little faster. Umemiya had spoken once about auctions like these—the kind where names were masked and every bid was backed by not just money but also power. Where the ones invited weren’t just rich, but relevant. Politicians with dirty hands. Arms dealers looking to fund civil wars. The kind of people you didn’t just spy on—you outplayed. If they were going to do anything about this, it wouldn’t be simple. They would need precision.

He opened his mouth, but before the thought could form, Suo spoke—as if reading him.

“We’ll start drafting the real plan tomorrow,” Suo said, rising with the slow grace of someone who had already mapped three moves ahead. “This one isn’t just another trade. It’s something that could turn the table.”

The meeting wrapped with a quiet shuffle of sofa cushions and screen closing. Nirei stayed behind at the desk, typing notes into a private file, but Suo and Sakura moved together in silence, exiting the office with only the low hum of distant hallway lights to accompany them. The hour was late, but not unfamiliar. These kinds of nights—where thoughts ran long and tension clung to the air were their normal.

Sakura walked half a step behind Suo down the long stretch of polished corridor, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. He hadn’t meant to say anything. Not tonight. But the weight in his chest hadn’t eased even with the meeting done. So just before they part ways to their own rooms, he reached out and tugged gently at the edge of Suo’s changshan.

Suo stopped and turned, looking over his shoulder.

Sakura looked up. “Suo-san, can I ask you something?”

There was no hesitation. Suo’s expression softened the moment their eyes met, and he stepped closer. “Of course.”

Sakura dropped his gaze for a second, then quietly said, “I know we’re busy. Everything’s moving fast. But if—if we have some time tomorrow, I want to go see Kotoha. I need to talk to her.”

Suo didn’t answer right away. His thumb came up to gently rub the ruby on his ring, a thoughtful, almost unconscious gesture.

The silence stretched, just long enough for Sakura’s doubt to creep in. Maybe it was too much to ask. The last time he had gone to see Kotoha without warning, it had ended in a mess—shouting, guilt, things he couldn’t take back. And now that Suo knew the whole truth of their past, maybe he thought Sakura wasn’t ready to face her again. That he would lose control, or worse, hurt Kotoha all over again just by not knowing how to hold himself steady.

Sakura’s voice dropped, quieter than before. “I just—I want to talk to her. Properly, this time.”

He braced for refusal. But instead, Suo let out a soft breath and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I just mentally adjusted my schedule a little. I’ll take you there.”

Sakura blinked. “You—wait, really? You don’t have to—”

“I need to talk to her too,” Suo replied simply, calm and assured, as if it were nothing.

“Oh. Okay.”

Then Suo turned to him, and for a moment, something almost boyish flickered across his face, gentle and fond. “Besides, I want to be the one who takes you where you want to be.”

Sakura stared, the warmth in his chest catching him off guard.

He didn’t know why the words left him—whether out of gratitude, or just simply he had missed it, Suo’s warmth next to him—but they slipped out before he could stop them.

“Should I stay over in your room tonight?”

Suo blinked. Then his smile widened, slow and wicked.

“I don’t think you should.”

Oh.

Sakura deflated. For some reason, he hadn’t expected to be turned down. It had been nearly two weeks since they last shared a night—Suo constantly pulled into yakuza affairs, both within and beyond their family, while Sakura was often locked in drills that stretched past midnight. Now that they finally had a sliver of time, even if just for the night, he had thought Suo would want to spend it with him—especially after laying his heart bare and confessing how deeply he loved him.

He should have known better than to let his hopes climb so easily. Just because Suo had once crumbled into his arms didn’t mean he could have him whenever he pleased. After all, Suo was the fearsome Oyabun to the world, and even if he was someone who could melt into a cry baby when Sakura turned cold—that didn’t mean he was Sakura’s to keep all to himself.

Sakura startled when Suo reached out and pat his head.

“If you do,” Suo continued, “I won’t be able to hold back. I’ll jump you all night, and we’ll both be dead tired by morning. We don’t want that, do we?”

Oh.

That damned smile had gone downright devilish. Sakura’s face flared red. He just wanted to be near Suo—to help him sleep better, that was all.

His mind drifted, uninvited, to that night in District 4. After everything—the heat, the mess, the confessions buried in touches—they had curled up together in the dark. And for once, Suo had slept soundly. No startled gasps, no twitching at shadows. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest, arms wrapped loosely around Sakura like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sakura hadn’t even meant to stay awake, but the quiet weight of that moment held him still.

He had never seen Suo so at peace. And it wasn’t lost on him that it had only happened with him there.

Sakura rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks burning. It wasn’t that kind of want, he told himself again. But his groin still heated with shameful betrayal at the thought alone.

“Who said I would let you jump me?” Sakura huffed, lying.

He flipped Suo off as Suo barked out a knowing laugh and stormed into his own room, his body still buzzed with the echo of something warm, something that felt maddeningly close to home and the very thing he hadn’t been granted.

———

Sakura’s throat was tight. He stared at the scarred wooden table, tracing a scratch with his eyes. For five years, this girl had been his only constant, his only family. He had screamed at her, accused her, and thrown that trust away like it was nothing. The words ‘I'm sorry’ felt too small, too hollow for the damage he'd done. He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to look at her. She was already looking back, her own eyes shimmering.

"I'm sorry, Kotoha-chan."

"I'm sorry, Sakura-chan."

They spoke at the same time, the words tumbling out in a rush of shared regret.

The moment stretched between them, awkward and beyond embarrassing. They had never argued to the point of needing apologies like this—not once in all their years together.

What made it worse were the two grown men witnessing this scene in the cramped inn living room, who had the audacity to hum their approval like proud parents. And perhaps most mortifying of all, both Kotoha and Sakura were barely holding back tears, biting their lips to keep from sobbing outright as the drops traced down their cheeks.

They were acting more like children than the twenty-four-year-olds they were supposed to be.

Kotoha, ever the stronger of the two, pulled herself together first. She regarded him with that familiar expression—smug and teary all at once.

"Seems like Suo knocked some sense into you, huh?" She smirked, though her lips still trembled with lingering emotion.

He had knocked something into Sakura alright. But that wasn't a conversation for here—or anywhere else, for that matter. Just thinking about the that night made heat creep up his neck and bloom across his face.

"I should have listened to what you had to say first," Sakura said, still bowing deeply. He knew he was being too formal, but he hoped Kotoha could see how much she meant to him—how deeply he respected and treasured her. "Instead of just exploding and jumping to conclusions like that. I said things that hurt you—and hurt our friendship. I'm really sorry."

Through his blurry vision, he saw Kotoha's hand reach across the table. Her palm settled over his, warm and sure, her fingers gripping his with a familiar strength. It was the same grip from that first day on the curb, when she had pressed a piece of dorayaki into his hand and anchored him to the world. The memory hit him with such force that a fresh wave of tears pricked at his eyes, and his own fingers curled instinctively around hers, holding on tight.

Even if this had all started as some kind of mission, even if she could have just treated him like an assignment, she had chosen to be his friend instead.

"I'm really sorry too, for hiding the truth from you," Kotoha murmured. "I was caught between our friendship and my loyalty to Suo—the man who saved my life. I thought I had to choose what he wanted first. I told myself it would be okay as long as I wasn't hurting you, but in the end, I still broke your trust. I—I hope we can fix this now that everything's out in the open."

"I understand." Sakura gripped her hand tightly. "Suo-san risked everything—his wealth, his position, his life—all to rescue you from the Master. He always takes every responsibility onto himself like that, right to the bitter end."

"What—" Kotoha’s voice cracked, a tremor of fear running through it. "The Master? But—I thought Keel was just another rival family. What did they have to do with the Master?"

Her gaze, wide and horrified, snapped to her brother. She had known Suo was her savior, but she had never known the true identity of her captor.

Sakura’s head shot up. He looked at Umemiya, whose face had also gone more bewildered, his usual composure crumbling. The hand he had placed on Suo’s shoulder tightened, his knuckles turning white.

Umemiya had known Suo risked a fortune to save Kotoha, but he had never imagined Suo had committed a direct act of treason against the very monster who held his leash. To move against the Master wasn't just dangerous; it was a death sentence.

"Keel did kidnap you," Suo said, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "But they were acting on the Master's orders. After Officer Nakamura's raids dismantled the three trafficking bases, you were the last child left—a lone hostage in a new location I discovered later. I couldn't involve Nakamura and the police force again, so I had to act alone." He paused, his gaze steady. "So I created a false identity and bought you at that auction."

Every word landed like a hammer blow. Sakura watched the truth settle over the room, but for him, it wasn't a shock. On the drive over, Suo had quietly laid out the facts, his voice detached, as if recounting a story that belonged to someone else. But now, seeing the raw disbelief on their faces, Sakura truly grasped the crushing weight of Suo's isolation. For five years, he had carried the burden of this secret rebellion completely alone.

The full gravity of it settled in Sakura’s chest, heavy as stone. It wasn't just the risk to his own life. Suo had wagered the fragile safety he had bought for Sakura—the one thing he treasured above all else. A single misstep, a single whisper reaching the Master's ears, could have brought that monster's wrath crashing down on both of them.

Now, seeing the pure shock on Kotoha's face, Sakura finally understood the motivation that went deeper than responsibility or kindness. Suo hadn't just saved Kotoha. He had seen a reflection of himself in her—a minor trapped and isolated in the Master's web, just as he and Sakura had been. And in saving Kotoha, Suo was reaching back in time to save himself, to save a part of his own soul that had been left to rot in that cage.

The weight of this new understanding was immense, a truth so profound an ache bloomed in Sakura's chest. Overwhelmed by a sudden, desperate need for contact, he shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat.

Under the table, hidden from view, his knee brushed against Suo’s. He held it there, a quiet, steady pressure that was less a touch and more a silent message.

I’m here. I understand why you risked everything like that.

He felt Suo’s leg tense for a fraction of a second before relaxing into the contact, a silent acceptance of the support offered.

The heavy silence in the room was finally broken by Umemiya, his voice thick with a mixture of awe and sorrow.

"Suo, why did you carry this all by yourself?"

His question hung in the air, giving Suo the opening he needed. His posture straightened as he took on the weight of his explanation.

"I couldn't tell any of you before because it was a classified operation. The more you knew, the more danger you would be in. But now that we're preparing to launch our final campaign against the Master, I think it's time you should know everything."

Umemiya’s hand, still on Suo’s shoulder, squeezed firmly. His eyes were solemn yet bright with a new, staggering respect. “I always respect what you deem necessary for our stakes, but Suo, it feels like we could never thank you enough for what you have always done for us.”

Suo held Umemiya’s gaze steadily for a long moment and finally gave a respectful nod.

“Actually,” said Suo, his voice lighter now. And he was grinning. “I do have something that needs Kotoha to work on. I hope she could help us out this time also.”

“Ooohhh,” Kotoha cheered up. She was already having her arm around Sakura’s shoulders in an headlock. “What’s this?”

“Turn Sakura-kun into a lady.”

———

"Nope. Absolutely not. He's hopeless."

The only upside to this disaster was that Kotoha had moved into the mansion. The downside? Everything else.

Specifically, the fact that she had turned the training room into a runway and was currently subjecting Sakura to what he could only describe as a public execution on heels.

How long had they been at this? Hours? Days? Sakura had lost track somewhere between his fifteenth face-plant and Kotoha's twentieth exasperated sigh.

As it turned out, the plan to infiltrate Takiishi's upcoming black-market auction didn't require tactical genius or brute force. It required fake eyelashes, a convincing pout, and acting skills Sakura decidedly did not possess. His first lesson wasn't 'Bidding for Dummies’ but the far more humiliating 'Walking Like You Don't Have a Stick Up Your Ass'.

Suo and Sakura would be disguised as a couple of an armed weapon dealer and his mistress, and of course Suo would assigned him to take the female role. Mostly just for the fun of it, Sakura thought bitterly.

"Stop marching like you're leading a military parade!" Kotoha bellowed, whacking Sakura's ankles with a wooden spoon she had stolen from the kitchen.

"I'm trying!" Sakura whipped around to glare at her.

"Then try harder! Put one foot in front of the other, how hard could it be?"

Sakura took another careful step, arms stretched out for balance, wobbling like a drunk tightrope walker. "This is impossible! How do women do this without breaking their necks?"

"Years of practice and superior coordination," Kotoha said coolly.

"I have coordination—"

He tilted sideways, barely catching himself against the wall.

"—of a newborn giraffe!" Kotoha snapped. "One look at you and everyone in that auction is going to know something's wrong. You walk like you're expecting someone to attack you from behind."

Fed up, Sakura kicked the heels across the floor and stormed toward Suo—the source of this torment, the mastermind behind this brilliant disguise plan. Suo was seated on a bench against the wall, legs crossed and sipping tea, looking like he was watching a private theatre performance.

Sakura grabbed his shoulders and shook him like a vending machine that ate his last coin. "Why, Suo-san? What kind of woman am I supposed to be? Some runway model?"

Despite being thoroughly jostled, Suo didn't spill a single drop of his drink. He set his cup down and reached up to pat Sakura's head like he was calming a small, frantic dog. "Don't sell yourself short. You're going to be Miss Japan 2023."

"That's worse." Sakura froze. His eyes twitched. "Why can't you do it? You've got the height. You're graceful. You probably even know how to pose."

Suo held up his phone, tapping a photo of a sleek woman with a bob cut. “This is Ms. Ashiro, Mr. Hibino’s mistress,” he said calmly. “She just posted her new haircut on Instagram yesterday. Terribly inconvenient for me, but a perfect opportunity for you.”

Opportunity my ass, Sakura cursed innerly.

At Sakura’s obvious pouting, Suo tilted his head, his voice dropping, soft and sly, "Won't you try your best? For me?"

Damn him. Sakura gritted his teeth. "Fine."

Kotoha reappeared, holding what looked like a pinkish-purple dress. "We're running out of time. Put this on so we can work on the full look with heels."

It hit him like a brick wall: he had to wear a dress.

What followed was a chaotic blur of fabric, flailing, and muttered threats. Kotoha wrestled him into the tight, mermaid-cut gown while Sakura tried not to snap every seam out of spite. The worst part? It fit. Too well. His lean build, tapered waist, and long legs all betrayed him in the mirror. Unfortunately, he still stood like he was preparing for hand-to-hand combat.

When he finally emerged from behind the screen, Suo took one look and nearly slid off the bench in hysterics, doubling over.

"Oh, stand still,” he said between howls of laughter. “I'm taking a picture."

"You're not!" Sakura snapped, attempting to stomp forward but the dress cinched his knees, and the heels were ready to kill again.

He wobbled. Floundered. Then—he pitched forward.

"SUO—!"

Before his pride could shatter on the polished floor, Suo caught him. The movement was a fluid, startling blur. One moment Sakura was falling, the next he was secure, held fast in a grip that was both iron-strong and impossibly gentle.

His chest was flush against Suo's, the solid warmth of him a shocking contrast to the cold panic of the fall. The scent of Suo’s cologne—that familiar, maddening mix of black tea and sharp clean leather—filled his senses, short-circuiting his brain. His hands, which had instinctively fisted Suo’s suit jacket, trembled slightly.

He was too close. Close enough to feel the steady thrum of Suo's heartbeat against his own erratic one.

"You're getting better," Suo said, his voice low and amused, breath warm near Sakura's ear. "You only almost died this time."

Sakura's brain finally rebooted. "I—I wasn't gonna fall that bad," he muttered, trying to wriggle away, but the heels betrayed him again and he ended up grabbing tighter.

"Easy there, Miss Suo," Suo murmured, clearly enjoying this far too much.

"Don't call me that!" Sakura hissed, mortified.

"But it suits you." Suo's smile was lazy, dangerous. "Though I have to admit, the whole 'falling into a gentleman’s arms' thing is very convincing. You're a natural."

"I will kill you," Sakura muttered, face still flushed and unfortunately very much still cradled in Suo's arms.

Suo only laughed—low, warm, and infuriating. "Good. Channel that energy into your performance."

Kotoha coughed loudly, her voice laced with theatrical impatience. "Alright, break's over, lovebirds. Let's see that graceful swan walk again. From the top."

Sakura groaned, the sound muffled against the expensive fabric of Suo's suit jacket. He was going to die. Of embarrassment, of tripping, or possibly of Suo's smugness alone. Whichever came first. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

And of course, through it all, he could still hear the faint, incriminating click of Suo’s phone camera.

———

Sakura was on his knees again—but this time, not from tripping over heels.

He was kneeling stiffly on the plush carpet of Suo's room, fists clenched on his thighs, head bowed in what could only be described as desperate resignation.

Three days. Three full days of being jabbed, pinched, painted, prodded, stuffed into dresses and dragged across the training room like a malfunctioning mannequin. He had tried everything his bruised pride could manage. Nothing worked.

Suo sat on the edge of the bed above him, legs spread nonchalantly, a picture of relaxed cruelty. He was just watching, letting the silence stretch, a silent predator enjoying the frantic energy of his cornered prey.

"Suo-san, I’m begging you. I can't do it." The words burst out before he could stop them. "I've tried for three days straight, and we're running out of time. The auction is in less than a week. Let me do anything else. Anything. I'll pose as that damned weapon dealer. Or even a waiter, a janitor, a damn bonsai tree—I don't care. Just not her."

Before Sakura could reaffirm, Suo’s leg lifted in a smooth motion, hooking around the back of his neck. It wasn’t a violent pull, but a slow, calculated tightening that drew Sakura inexorably forward until his face hovered just inches from the rough fabric of Suo’s trousers.

Cool fingers touched Sakura's chin, lifting his face upward with a gentleness that made his breath catch somewhere between his chest and throat. Crimson eye narrowed with amusement, lips curling into a smirk that was too smooth to be safe.

"Anything?" Suo asked softly.

Sakura stared up at him. That single word carried weight that made his heart drum against his ribs like it was ready to abandon ship. The heat radiating from Suo was a palpable thing, and Sakura's mind blanked, then flooded with vivid, explicit images of what ’anything’ could mean from this position.

This was a test. After a heartbeat of stunned silence, a spark of defiance ignited in Sakura’s chest. He relaxed into the hold, a subtle surrender, and leaned further until his cheek rested on Suo’s crotch. He tilted his face up just enough to gaze up at Suo from under his lashes.

"Anything you tell me to do," he confirmed, his voice a low murmur. He even jutted out his lips a little into what he hoped was a lovely pout.

He felt it then—the heavy, unmistakable twitch of interest from Suo against his cheek.

Suo's thumb brushed over Sakura’s lower lip in a mockingly gentle motion, as if wiping away lipstick that wasn't there. Then he pressed down with just enough force that made Sakura stutter out a gasp and obediently open his mouth a little and bare his teeth.

This is it.

Sakura’s hand reached up and slid from Suo’s thigh to his belt, but Suo just unhooked his leg from Sakura’s neck and stood. He was smirking.

Huh?

Then came the sigh—long, dramatic, the kind people let out when agreeing to something they absolutely planned to guilt-trip you for later.

"Alright," Suo said at last. "Fine. You're off the hook."

Sakura blinked. "Wait. Really?"

"You want out? But there's a price."

Suo stepped past Sakura and opened a drawer, drawing out a pair of silver shears. The blades caught the light.

"This isn't a 'someone-else-do-it' mission,” he said, raking his fingers through the fall of his hair. “Either you or me will be Ms. Ashiro. The wig we picked for her bob won’t fit this length.” A wry lift of his mouth. “If I’m going to take her role, we have to cut my hair.”

Sakura stared. At the shears. Then at Suo’s hair—thick, dark, and long enough now to brush his lower back when unbound. He felt something sink behind his ribs.

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Suo stepped back toward him and offered the handle first. “If you want out, you take the scissors and cut it yourself. I am not letting anyone else touch it.”

That landed hard. Sakura’s heart was thumping. So Suo just didn’t keep his hair long for the look of it. He reached out slowly. The metal was cold in his hands—too light and too sharp all at once.

Suo watched him, then asked—quietly, almost like it mattered, “Will you be okay with me with short hair? I know you’ve always had a thing for it long.”

Sakura choked. “Wha—?! I don’t—!”

Suo’s smile clearly said you do.

Heat shot up Sakura’s neck. He scratched behind his ear, mortified. “It’s not only your hair I have a thing for,” he muttered.

The words hung in the air between them. Suo’s teasing smirk faltered, his expression going completely still.

“Oh,” he breathed—soft, real, and stripped of all artifice.

Then, slower this time, he smiled. A gentle, quiet thing that hurt to look at. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Sakura, and tipped his head forward, his long hair spilling down like a curtain of dark silk, baring the line of his nape.

“Then go ahead, Sakura-kun. Make me beautiful.”

Sakura moved behind him, the air in the bedroom so still it felt like the walls were holding their breath. Suo sat without fidgeting, a statue of pure trust. His long, elegant hair, which he had grown out for years—through distance, war, and rebuilding—was now being handed over.

“Ready?” Sakura whispered.

A faint nod. “Go ahead.”

Sakura's hand trembled as he lifted the first lock. His mind went blank. Snip. The sound echoed, slicing through the quiet, the start of something irreversible. For a heartbeat, he felt clumsy, all thumbs. But then his fingers adjusted on their own. The rhythm came back like breath—not thought, but a memory stored in muscle and touch.

He stared down at his own hands, a sense of dizzying disbelief washing over him. He didn't know how to do this. He had never been taught. And yet, his fingers moved with a fluid, sure confidence, combing through, lifting weight, finding tension, and trimming.

How? The realization hit him not as a memory, but as a feeling. He had done this before. When they were younger—in their own fragile sanctuary, between darker times and bruises—Suo had sat just like this while he cut away split ends and uneven jags, with focus and care and quiet pride that felt like coming home. Sakura couldn’t remember the pictures—but his hands did.

And they remembered how to touch Suo without hesitation.

He worked in a daze, letting his body lead. As he carefully trimmed the hair shorter, the back of Suo’s neck was slowly revealed. And then he saw it. Nestled at the base of his nape, a perfect, circular scar—the brand from their ceremony.

Sakura’s breath caught, his fingers stilling. He hadn't seen Suo's brand since the day it was made. Now, seeing it so exposed and vulnerable, made his chest ache. He set the scissors down and reached out, his thumb tracing the scar with a feather-light touch. He felt Suo tense almost imperceptibly, a tremor of remembered pain, before relaxing into the touch with a soft sigh.

"Sorry," Sakura whispered, his voice thick.

"Don't be," Suo murmured back, his voice a low vibration. "It always feels nice. When you touch me."

Sakura let his thumb trace the circle over and over. This small, hidden mark was the ultimate proof of Suo’s conviction. The man who flinched from nothing had willingly knelt to have his flesh seared, binding his entire future to Sakura's loyalty. It was a scar born of pain, but it was also a symbol of absolute, terrifying trust; the heaviest promise in the world, worn silently on his skin.

A wave of fierce, protective tenderness washed over him. He picked up the scissors again, his hands no longer trembling. The earlier confusion in his own hands now made sense, grounded by this physical proof of their present bond.

Each snip now felt like it was releasing something heavy: the weight Suo carried, the years they'd spent apart, the hurt of forgetting. And Sakura wasn't just cutting hair—he was shaping the present, caring for the man who had branded himself his.

When he finally set the scissors down, Sakura stared at the back of Suo's head, the fresh cut clean and soft.

He had thought the long hair was beautiful. But this—this was something else entirely.

"I think—" Sakura said, his voice quiet and a little shaky. "I think that's it."

Suo didn't move for a long moment. Then, he rose without a word and stepped past Sakura and quietly approached the mirror beside the windows. Outside, wind moved through the trees; inside, nothing dared disturb the hush. Sakura stayed frozen where he was, watching.

Suo stood before his reflection and stared. He didn't touch his hair at first. He just looked at it—tilting his head slightly to one side, then the other. The shorter length framed his face differently now. It sharpened the line of his jaw, made his nape visible, exposed the slope of his neck where his hair used to fall like a protective curtain.

He looked a lot younger, and something loosened behind his expression—an ease, almost peace.

Suo then lifted a hand, combed through the new length once, let it fall. A few strands curled at his temple, slightly uneven. He didn't fix them.

But the silence went on one beat too long, and panic hit Sakura like a drop in the stomach. He had ruined it. The cut was a mess.

"I'm sorry, did I ruin it?" he babbled, his voice high with anxiety. "We can—we can call Kiryu, maybe he can fix it—"

He turned hastily, ready to bolt from the room and drag their tattoo artist here to fix his mistake, but Suo moved faster. He spun around, catching Sakura’s arm and pulling him back into his orbit. His other hand came up to cup the back of Sakura's neck, a firm, possessive grip that drew him close. He tilted Sakura’s face up.

And instead of words, Suo kissed him.

It wasn't urgent or demanding. It was quiet. It was a long pause between heartbeats, pressed mouth to mouth, a question finally getting its answer.

When Suo finally pulled back, his hand cupped Sakura’s face in a tender hold, thumb brushing soothingly over his cheekbone.

"This is perfect," he whispered.

And Sakura knew. Suo wasn't just talking about the haircut. He couldn't find words to say anything back. So he just nodded—once, shaky—and Suo smiled as if he heard everything anyway.

———

“Why you again?” Sakura groaned.

Today was the day of the auction, which was held in the evening, but Sakura’s mission had already started that morning.

His partner this time was none other than Sugishita. Again.

Dressed in the crisp, laughably snug uniform of the hotel's room service staff, Sakura felt like a fraud. The starched white collar dug into his neck, and the vest was just a little too tight across the shoulders.

Beside him, Sugishita pushed a trolley laden with a gleaming ice bucket holding a bottle of luxury champagne, alongside an elegant display of bath oils and salts. His massive frame looked utterly ridiculous in the uniform, less like a hotel employee and more like a barely-contained bouncer who had stolen the wrong outfit.

“Tch,” Sugishita clicked his tongue, his voice a low rumble. He adjusted the stiff collar for the tenth time. “Between this damn collar and your incessant whining, I’m not sure which is more likely to kill me first.”

“Suo-san made a mistake assigning you to this,” Sakura grumbled as they neared their target’s suite. “No luxury hotel would hire an employee who looks like he’d hurt their business.” At Sugishita’s deepening scowl, Sakura gestured vaguely at him. “With that long, messy hair and that permanent grumpy face? They’d think you were here to haunt the place, not serve them.”

Sugishita muttered a curse, but to Sakura’s surprise, he stopped the trolley and pulled out a simple black hair tie. With a few efficient movements, he secured his long hair into a neat, low ponytail.

The simple act transformed his appearance, sharpening the lines of his jaw and making him look less like a brooding thug and more—well, handsome. Sakura had to crankily admit it, though the sight stirred no familiar, aching warmth in his chest like when Suo raked his long elegant fingers through his hair, long or short.

Damn it. Even here, his thoughts still found their way circling back to Suo.

“What’s the difference? You don’t look like you can serve shit either,” Sugishita commented dryly.

“Mind you, I have five years of experience in hospitality, while yours is hostility,” Sakura retorted, pushing the trolley the final few feet toward the penthouse suite. At Sugishita’s skeptical eyebrow raise, he added begrudgingly, “Even if it was just a small inn. Just watch.”

They reached their destination—a pair of grand, imposing double doors. Two bodyguards stood sentinel, blocking the entrance.

"Mr. Hibino didn't order room service," the taller one said, his voice flat.

Sakura didn't flinch, offering a practiced smile that hurt his teeth.

"My apologies, sir, this wasn't an order from Mr. Hibino." He glanced down at a forged order slip. "This is the 'Lover's Dawn' spa package, pre-booked by Ms. Ashiro herself. It’s an exclusive treatment to be prepared in-suite. She specifically requested it be kept a surprise."

He held out the clipboard. "Her private session is scheduled to start in ten minutes," Sakura continued, a hint of urgency in his voice. "I’m sure you understand a lady of her stature would be quite displeased if her surprise was ruined because of a minor delay at the door."

The guards exchanged an uncertain look.

The first gave a curt nod. "Alright. But we check everything."

One guard ran a handheld poison detector over the champagne bottle and the bath supplies, its soft hum unwavering. The other patted them down thoroughly. Finding nothing, they finally stepped aside and opened the door.

"Since when are you so smooth?" Sugishita murmured as they pushed the trolley past the entryway, the door clicking shut behind them.

Sakura shrugged, his gaze sweeping the room for cameras. "Maybe Suo-san's silver tongue is rubbing off on me."

A rare smirk—the kind that promised nothing good—tugged at Sugishita's lips. "I'm sure his tongue was rubbing off on you. All night, from the looks of it."

Sakura's entire body went rigid. Heat shot up his neck as he spun to face him, his voice a furious whisper. "The fuck? You don't know a damn thing—"

"I don't know anything," Sugishita interrupted, his tone flat as he began arranging the bath oils by the lavish tub. "And I totally didn't see you sneaking out of Suo-san's bedroom this morning while I was on my way to get this assignment."

Sakura’s retort died in his throat, a hot flush of embarrassment rendering him speechless. He turned away, focusing on the mission to hide his burning cheeks as he moved to the elegant bar cart in the living area.

At that moment, Mr. Hibino and Ms. Ashiro emerged from the bedroom. Hibino, a man with short, spiky dark hair and a smile that seemed far too joyous for an arms dealer, immediately settled onto the plush sofa. Ashiro, a tall, elegant woman with a sharp bob cut and a detached expression, settled beside him with practiced poise.

Ms. Ashiro regarded him then the champagne bottle with dark orange eyes and ordered, her voice smooth and cool. "Pour us a glass, will you?"

"Of course, Ms. Ashiro," Sakura said with a polite bow, uncorking the bottle with practiced hands.

Across the room, Sugishita moved to the ensuite bathroom to begin drawing the bath.

Sakura presented the glasses on a silver tray. The couple took them, clinking them together in a casual toast. "To a profitable evening!" Hibino declared with a broad, almost manic grin, taking a long swallow. Ashiro simply smiled faintly and sipped hers delicately.

They talked idly for a moment, the picture of a wealthy couple enjoying their afternoon. Then, Ashiro's magazine slipped from her fingers. Her eyes fluttered, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she leaned her head against the back of the sofa. Hibino trailed off mid-sentence with a confused grunt, his body going slack, slumping against the cushions. Ashiro followed a second later, drifting into unconsciousness beside him.

The amount of sedative in the champagne was small enough to not flag the poison detector but enough to drowse the consumer a short period of time.

The moment their breathing deepened, Sakura shot a sharp, silent glance at Sugishita, who emerged from the bathroom. With a curt nod, Sakura beckoned him toward the bedroom to find the invitation cards. The clock was now ticking.

As Sugishita disappeared, Sakura darted toward the unconscious couple on the sofa. Pulling a scanner from his pocket—a sleek device disguised as a smartphone—he knelt beside Ashiro first. He gently lifted her eyelids, his own heart pounding against his ribs as the device whirred softly, capturing the intricate patterns of her iris. Scan complete. He moved to Hibino, repeating the process. As the data uploaded in a secure, encrypted stream to Nirei, Sakura’s earpiece crackled to life.

"Got it," Nirei’s voice confirmed from the earpiece. "Clean scans. I can replicate the lenses. Find those invitations. You have less than four minutes before they wake up."

Sakura was already moving, joining Sugishita in the bedroom. "Anything?"

"Locked suitcase. Hard-shell. No obvious way in," Sugishita grunted, running his hands over a sleek aluminum briefcase on the luggage rack.

"Move," Sakura ordered, pushing him aside.

He pulled a set of thin metal picks from a hidden pocket in his uniform's sleeve. His fingers worked with a frantic, practiced grace, feeling for the tumblers, listening for the faintest click. The seconds ticked by, loud as drumbeats in the silent room.

Click. The first tumbler gave. Click. The second. With a final, satisfying snap, the lock disengaged.

Sakura flipped the lid open, revealing two embossed, heavy-stock invitation cards nestled in velvet. He snatched them just as Hibino groaned from the other room.

"Time's up. Go," Sugishita hissed, already moving toward the door.

By the time Hibino and Ashiro stirred, blinking away the sudden, inexplicable drowsiness, Sakura and Sugishita were standing by the now-drawn jacuzzi, as if they had never moved.

"Apologies," Sakura said smoothly. "You both seemed a bit overcome by the champagne's quality."

Hibino chuckled, rubbing his temples with a dazed look. "Stronger than I thought," he said jovially, clearly confused but too proud to question it further.

Ashiro blinked slowly, eyes narrowing for half a second as if trying to piece together a missing moment—but the heat spreading through her veins seemed to melt the question away. She leaned closer to Hibino, her expression softening into something far more primal.

"The bath is drawn to the perfect temperature, Ms. Ashiro," Sakura said, gesturing to the steaming water. "We recommend you enjoy it immediately for the best therapeutic effects."

"Excellent, excellent, off you go then," Hibino dismissed them with a cheerful wave. "Leave us."

The second phase had begun. As he turned to leave, Sakura cast one last glance back at the suite. Inside, Mr. Hibino was laughing—too loudly—and Mrs. Ashiro’s eyes gleamed with an uncharacteristic heat as she trailed a hand across his chest.

The trap was closing. The drugged, aromatic steam from the bath filling the air would soon render them insatiable, lost to each other in a haze of manufactured lust. By the time they resurfaced, the auction would be nothing more than a forgotten smear in their minds, leaving the stage perfectly set for Suo and Sakura to step into their roles.

As Sugishita and Sakura were ushered out, one of the bodyguards held them at the door while the other slipped inside to check on his boss. A moment later, he re-emerged, giving a curt nod. Mr. Hibino and his mistress were fine, already disrobing and sinking into the tub, their private moments secured. The guards let them pass.

The heavy suite door clicked shut behind them, sealing the first part of their mission. But as they walked down the quiet, plush corridor, Sakura felt no sense of victory, only the mounting weight of what was to come.

This small, successful deception was merely the prelude. His real mission would begin tonight, once he stepped into the role of Hibino, accompanied by the beautiful, deadly mistress who would, for one night only, be Suo.

———

The plan had been rehearsed a dozen times, but Sakura’s nerves were still frayed. He knocked once on Suo’s bedroom door before pushing it open, his mouth already forming the question about their entry protocol.

But the words died in his throat, lost in a silent rush of air.

He stood frozen in the doorway, completely overwhelmed. Suo was a vision, draped in an off-the-shoulder gown of deep forest green satin that clung to his frame like a second skin. His newly short hair was now hidden under a sleek dark bob cut wig mimicked Ms. Ashiro's exact shade and texture, perfectly framing a face of delicate, almost ethereal beauty. He looked graceful, elegant, and so stunningly beautiful it made Sakura’s chest ache.

At the soft click of the door, Suo turned. His head tilted, a silent question in his eyes as he looked at Sakura.

And Sakura’s world tilted with him.

It wasn't the dress. It wasn't the makeup. It was Suo’s eyes. Both of them. The familiar, menacing eyepatch was gone. In its place, where there had once been only a scarred socket, was an artificial eye, its color a perfect, startling match to his natural crimson one. Both eyes were open, both fixed on Sakura, and for the first time in this life, Sakura was seeing the face of the boy he had first met. The boy he had loved.

A sharp, violent pain lanced through Sakura's temple, making his vision swim.

He stumbled forward, his feet carrying him as if pulled by an invisible, ancient string. He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of Suo, his hands rising on their own accord. His trembling fingers came up to cup Suo’s face, his thumbs tracing the delicate skin just beneath those two crimson eyes.

Sakura stared, breath catching, as though looking at a ghost. A memory, sharp and agonizing, was clawing at the walls of his mind, a desperate, silent scream threatening to break through. It hurt.

He saw Suo’s composure crack, a raw vulnerability surfacing in his gaze—a silent, pleading question: Are you remembering?

The migraine intensified, and Sakura gasped, his own eyes squeezing shut against the pain. He pulled one hand away from Suo's face, pressing the heel of his palm hard against his own throbbing temple. He swayed on his feet, the world a dizzying blur.

Instantly, Suo's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around Sakura's elbow, steadying him.

"Sakura? Are you alright?" Suo's voice was a low, strained murmur, thick with a concern that cut through the haze.

Sakura forced his eyes open, his gaze locking with Suo's. Through the shimmering film of unshed tears, he saw his own pain reflected back at him. Suo's eyes were glistening, his composure a fragile mask over a deep, shared sorrow.

"I'm alright," Sakura lied, his voice barely a whisper. "Just—just a little dizzy."

A worried smile touched Suo’s lips. He reached up with his free hand and flicked Sakura’s forehead, the gesture sharp but gentle, a deliberate act to pull him back from the edge.

"Take your time, Sakura-kun," he chided softly, his voice light with amusement, though the light in his eyes still trembled. "Don’t try to touch a lady the first time you see her. Even if she’s this pretty."

Sakura knew Suo wasn’t just referring to his appearance.

The fragile connection shattered, and the awareness of their audience came rushing back in. Kotoha. She was still there, watching them from the side of the room. A hot flush of embarrassment washed over Sakura. He yanked his hands back as if burned, stumbling back a step. The vulnerability between him and Suo felt sacred, something intensely private that he wasn't ready to share, not even with his best friend.

He took a moment, forcing a deep, steadying breath into his lungs to calm his racing heart. He needed to ground himself in the here and now, in the mission. With his composure regained, he allowed himself to take in Suo’s full appearance again. He was perfect for this role, impossibly so. But as his gaze traveled down from that beautiful, haunting face, over the elegant lines of the dress, it stopped abruptly.

He almost choked. Right at the front of the form-fitting satin, Suo’s crotch was… visibly bulging. Of course. His massive cock, a fact Sakura was now intimately and frustratingly aware of, was not something a simple dress could conceal.

Sakura’s finger shot out, pointing. "Suo—that—you can't—" he sputtered, words failing him as he gestured wildly at the very obvious problem.

Before he could form a coherent sentence, Kotoha smacked his hand down with a sharp "Tsk!"

She moved with brisk efficiency, picking up a long, thick stole of a darker forest green fur from the bed. With a few expert movements, she wrapped it around Suo's shoulders, letting it drape elegantly down his front. She secured it with a glittering brooch, the plush fur perfectly concealing both the bulge at his crotch and the defined, masculine lines of his arms and shoulders.

"There," Kotoha said with a satisfied nod, stepping back. "Problem solved. Now, try not to drool on him. You have a mission to prepare for."

Sakura could only manage a numb nod, words having completely deserted him. He stood there, rooted to the spot, until Kotoha had finished fitting Suo with Mrs. Ashiro’s dark orange iris lenses and applying the last touches of makeup.

Only when she finally left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her, did Sakura feel like he could breathe again. The air in the room still seemed to shimmer around Suo's new form.

“I don’t recall Mr. Hibino looking quite so handsome,” Suo commented, his gaze meeting Sakura’s in the mirror. He fluttered his long, dark lashes, the gesture so playful it made Sakura’s stomach clench. “Though I hope Kiryu only used a temporary dye for your hair. I miss your two tones already.”

His voice was a smooth, melodic alto—unmistakably feminine. The pitch-changing chip Nirei had attached to the inside of their cheeks was working flawlessly. Suo was putting on a simple pair of delicate golden earrings, the movement graceful and practiced.

“And I don’t recall Mrs. Ashiro being this flirtatious,” Sakura retorted, the deep, obnoxiously loud baritone of Mr. Hibino feeling foreign in his own throat. “The real one looked like she could shoot us in the head with just a small handgun.”

“Oh, I bet she could,” Suo chuckled, the sound now a soft, musical laugh.

He turned from the mirror, the satin of his dress whispering as he moved. He approached Sakura, the high heels adding to his already towering height, forcing him to bend elegantly so they could be eye-level.

“There will be a number of arrogant men at tonight's networking session, all trying too hard to be sophisticated. Try not to let them get on your nerves. Are you nervous?”

Sakura lifted his chin, his own reflection in Suo’s now-orange eyes looking back at him—a stranger in a sharp suit with dark, spiked hair.

“I can also be sophisticated,” he said defiantly. “And as long as you’re with me, I have nothing to fear.”

A sharp, catlike grin spread across Suo's perfectly painted lips. He reached out to fix Sakura's tie a little tighter, and smoothed his fingers over the lapel of his black suit in a slow, possessive gesture that was both a comfort and a claim. It was a silent reminder of who he belonged to, and whose side he would be fighting on tonight.

“That’s my man.”

—•—•—

Side story:

Sakura yanked open the car door, his movements sharp with nervous energy, and slid into the plush leather seat. The interior of the car was a quiet, isolated world, smelling faintly of leather and Suo’s perfume—something vanilla that he must have only used for this occasion only.

"You're three minutes late," Suo commented without looking up from the datapad in his hands. He was already the picture of Ms. Ashiro—poised, elegant, and radiating an untouchable coolness.

Sakura’s face flushed. "I know, I was—uh—" He fumbled for a moment, his well-rehearsed excuses dying on his tongue. With a frustrated sigh, he gave up and pulled his hands from behind his back. "Here."

He awkwardly shoved a small, slightly lopsided bouquet toward Suo. It wasn't a grand arrangement, just a simple gathering of white camellias and a few sprigs of deep purple lavender, all tied together with a simple beige silk ribbon that he had looted from Kotoha.

From the driver's seat, Hiragi caught the exchange in the rearview mirror and let out a hearty, unrestrained snort of laughter.

"Well," he chuckled, his voice full of amusement. "I never figured you for such a sap, Sakura-chan."

"Shut up!" Sakura snapped, his ears burning as he continued to hold the bouquet out to a now-silent Suo. "It just—it felt like I was taking you to prom or something," he muttered, his gaze fixed determinedly on the car's floor mats. "And a date should get flowers. So uh—Suo-san, I got you flowers."

Suo just stared. His usual composure had completely vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed, almost comical look of utter surprise. His gaze flicked from Sakura’s face to the handmade bouquet and back again, his now orange eyes blinking slowly as if he couldn't quite process what was happening.

The silence stretched, and a knot of self-doubt tightened in Sakura's gut. He knew it. It was such a stupid idea.

"Look, I know they're not from some fancy boutique," he confessed in a rush, his voice low with embarrassment. "I didn't have time—so I just picked them from the mansion's garden this afternoon. I'm sorry if it's offensive, for someone like you to get… handpicked weeds. I'll just get rid of them."

Before he could pull the bouquet back and left the car to get rid of the flowers and his own dignity, Suo's hand shot out. One hand grabbed Sakura's tie, yanking him forward across the seat. The other hand gently took the bouquet from Sakura's grip. In one smooth, fluid motion, he lifted the flowers, positioning them perfectly before their faces and shielding them from Hiragi’s rearview mirror.

Hidden behind the screen of white and purple blossoms, Suo’s lips met his in a quick, firm kiss. It was over in a second—just a soft, secret press of mouths—but it left Sakura’s mind completely blank, his lips tingling.

Suo pulled back just as smoothly, settling the flowers carefully on his lap as if nothing had happened.

"Hiragi-san," he ordered, his voice sharp and clear. "Let’s get going. We'll be late."

As the car pulled away from the yard, Sakura was still reeling, utterly speechless. Suo leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper meant only for him, his fingers gently tracing the edge of a white camellia petal.

"For the record," he murmured, "they're just as beautiful, and made me just as happy, as the heart-shaped narutomaki you used to make for me."

Chapter Text

The sleek car moved silently, leaving the gleaming towers of District 1 behind. The landscape shifted as they crossed into District 2, the modern cityscape giving way to the starkly functional architecture of the industrial sector. They bypassed the district's bustling center, heading for the quieter outskirts where rusted fences and empty lots bordered sprawling tracts of undeveloped land.

Sakura adjusted his tie, the unfamiliar weight of Mr. Hibino's persona settling over him as the car turned onto a dark road. He cleared his throat.

"SO WHERE EXACTLY IS THIS PARTY?" he boomed, the obnoxious voice of the arms dealer filling the car and nearly rattling the windows.

"Jesus," Hiragi cursed from the driver's seat, jumping slightly. "You gave me a start. Do you have to be so loud?"

Suo covered his mouth to stifle a snicker. "Sakura-kun," he said, his actual voice a low, amused murmur, "No one will know Mr. Hibino's identity but the guards. You don't have to torture us the entire way and act like him for the whole evening."

Sakura huffed, but a wave of relief washed over him as his shoulders slumped. Thank God. "Right. I'll just be the reserved one then. I hate crowds anyway."

"Exactly. Just stay by my side and let me do the talking," Suo said, a confident grin in his voice. "I'm afraid the more you speak, the more suspicious we'll look."

"Don't underestimate me," Sakura fumed, though there was no real heat to his words.

"I would never," Suo feigned a gasp. "It's just that you're so wonderfully easy to get worked up."

"I'm not," he mumbled, looking away. "I’ve been learning to be more composed... like you."

Then I would look more equal and worthy of standing next to you, the thought finished quietly in his mind.

"Oh, darling," Suo drawled, his voice softening. "You don't need to be anything else. I like you just the way—"

"With all due respect, Suo-san, should I just throw the two of you out of the car?" Hiragi interrupted and heaved out a sigh, his eyes glaring at them in the rearview mirror. "Stop flirting. We’ll be there in five minutes."

Suo snorted out a fond laugh. He didn't push it, his expression shifting as he turned his gaze out the window. His dark orange eyes softened, his focus seeming to drift to a time and place far beyond the decaying landscape outside

"It used to be beautiful here. This whole area was the Botanical Gardens, centered around a massive glasshouse. A small piece of serenity in the middle of all this industrial district."

Of course, he thought, Suo would remember a place of beauty in a world of concrete.

"Sounds like a dream," Sakura murmured, trying to picture it. "I've hardly seen anything green in District 2. It's all factories and smog."

"It was," Suo said, his voice sobering slightly. "But when Takiishi took over the district, anything that didn't turn a profit was worthless to him. A garden doesn't mint coins, so he let it rot. Now, it's just a convenient, unsuspecting cover for gatherings like this."

Just as he finished, the car turned onto overgrown path. Ahead, looming out of the darkness like the ghost of a forgotten world, was the glasshouse. Its panes were grimy and cracked, some shattered entirely, and dark vines twisted their ways around its iron framework. It felt like a cathedral of decay, beautiful and abandoned.

Before they exited the car, they fastened their masks—smooth, featureless obsidian that covered down to their nose and erased their identities completely.

They approached a single steel door where two silent guards stood sentinel. Sakura presented their invitation cards. A green light blinked. The guards then gestured to a high-tech iris scanner.

Sakura went first. He leaned in, his heart thudding a heavy rhythm against his ribs as the scanner's red light bathed his mask. This was the point of no return. A single flaw in Nirei's cloned data, a single anomaly, and their mission would end here, violently. The half-second of silence before the chime felt like an eternity. A soft, affirmative bing cut through the tension.

He stepped back, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Suo followed, the process just as seamless. The relief was a palpable thing, but it was fleeting. The guard was never truly down.

The steel door hissed open, revealing a dimly lit tunnel. Two guards stood sentinel just inside, their presence made more menacing by the tactical rifles held ready across their chests. They gave a curt nod, turning to escort them down a long passage where the silence was so profound it seemed to press in on them, swallowing the sound of their own footsteps.

After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel bled into a vast chamber that opened up before them like a secret world, the atmosphere shifting in an instant.

The sterile concrete gave way to decadent opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling, casting a deep ruby-red glow over a hall filled with masked figures who moved like shadows in a blood-tinted world.

Before they had taken a full step inside, two attendants in tailored uniforms materialized at their sides.

"Welcome," one said, her voice soft and professional. "May I take your stole, madam?"

Suo let out a soft, musical laugh, placing a hand lightly over the fur stole draped across his front.

"Oh, you couldn't possibly, darling," he said, his tone a perfect blend of charm and gentle refusal. "This piece and the dress are a matched set. One simply cannot exist without the other. It would be a fashion catastrophe."

He gave a theatrical flourish of his hand and then linked his arm with Sakura’s. "But you can get me some champagne. And my man will have a whiskey. Be a dear and fetch those for us, won't you?"

The attendant, completely disarmed by the guest’s flowery sweet talking, simply bowed her head with a warm smile and scurried off to fulfill the request. Suo draped himself further onto Sakura, a subtle pressure nudging him deeper into the hall.

Sakura walked silently beside him, playing his part as the watchful guest, his gaze sweeping the room. The air hummed with hushed conversations, thick with the scent of expensive perfume, Cuban cigar smoke, and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood money and weapons.

"Now then," Suo murmured, leaning close enough for his lips to brush the shell of Sakura's ear, the cool tip of his obsidian mask grazing Sakura's hair. His voice was laced with a predatory charm. "Let's go mingle, shall we?"

The attendant returned with their drinks, and Suo took his champagne with a graceful nod before turning to Sakura.

"Stay near the bar," he murmured, his voice a low command under the rising hum of the hall. "Keep an eye on things from a distance. I need to move freely."

Before Sakura could protest, Suo detached himself from his arm and melted into the crowd, leaving him standing alone and feeling utterly out of place.

Sakura sighed, a familiar disappointment settling in his chest. He wanted to be by Suo's side, a visible warning to anyone who looked too long. Instead, he was relegated to the sidelines.

He retreated to a small, unoccupied table near the bar, setting his whiskey down and took in the surroundings just like Suo instructed.

All the masked guests moved with a predatory confidence. Elite. That was the word, wasn't it? Even the ones with scarred knuckles and the hard, weathered faces of street-level brutes radiated an intimidating aura as they gathered in quiet, powerful groups.

This wasn't a party in any mean—it was a gathering of sharks. He picked up his glass, bringing it to his lips and pretending to take a sip. He had never had whiskey before and had no idea how he would tolerate it, especially not during a mission. The bitter smell alone was enough to make his nose wrinkle.

From his vantage point, he watched Suo. He was a master, moving through the throng with a captivating grace. He would smile and beam, holding up a gloved hand to politely cover his mouth doing so—and the men around him would lean in, their bodies angled toward him with rapt attention. He had them completely enthralled.

Sakura’s jaw tightened. He knew this was the plan, but watching those men stare at Suo, their masked gazes hungry and appreciative, made something raw stir uglily inside him.

His attention sharpened on one guest in particular. A man with short, spiky black hair and an undercut, shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway, and taller than Suo even in his heels. He carried himself with the easy arrogance of someone used to taking what he wanted. He had been inching closer to Suo's circle, and now he was right beside him.

The man inserted himself into the conversation with a charm that felt both effortless and predatory. To Sakura's growing irritation, Suo's attention seemed to shift to him almost immediately. They spoke, their masked faces angled toward each other in a way that felt far too intimate. Then, the man leaned in and said something, a low murmur that didn't carry across the room.

Whatever it was, it made Suo throw his head back and laugh—a sound that was startlingly genuine, louder and more musical than any of the polite chuckles he had offered anyone else tonight. He laughed so hard he staggered, his body swaying off-balance. The champagne in his flute sloshed over the rim, splashing down the front of his green satin dress.

Seeing his chance, the man moved instantly. His arms shot out, catching Suo and pulling him steady, holding him in an embrace that lingered a beat too long.

Sakura hadn't even realized he had left his table. He was already halfway across the floor, his whiskey forgotten, every muscle in his body coiled tight.

By the time Suo had regained his footing, stepping back with a graceful nod of thanks, the man wasn't finished. He pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket.

"Allow me," he said, his voice a confident purr, as he reached forward, intending to dab the spilled champagne from the satin stretched across Suo's chest.

He never made it.

Sakura's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the man’s wrist in a crushing grip. The man’s movement stopped instantly. The low hum of conversation around them faltered.

"Don't touch what's mine," Sakura snarled, his voice a guttural sound that sliced through the polite hum of the room. "She's with me."

The man’s jaw went rigid. Sakura felt the muscles in the man's forearm bunch and strain against his grip, a coiled spring of violence begging for release. The air between them grew thick, a standoff charged with silent intent. Then, the tension bled from the man’s posture as he let out a long exhale.

He slowly raised his free hand, palm open, in a universal sign of surrender. A smile touched his lips, but it held no apology. It was the cold smirk of a man who understood the game perfectly.

Sakura released his wrist, but not before his fingers dug in one last time—a punishment and a promise.

The man took a single step back, a precisely measured retreat that created a careful distance between them. A strange glint of amusement entered his eyes as he flexed his freed wrist. The motion was a clear dismissal, but Sakura saw the appraisal in it—the quiet acknowledgment of a predator sizing up a new, unexpected threat.

"My apologies. I meant no offense. One should never lay a hand on what is not theirs," he said, his voice smooth as polished steel. He shifted his attention back to Suo with a penetrating gaze and smirked. "A truly clever woman. Her man must be even more so, to keep her."

What did this fucker mean by that?

Sakura’s mind went into overdrive, trying to decipher its hidden meaning, but he didn’t need a dictionary to understand the poison dripping from that statement.

Every word was a carefully aimed dart. Sakura felt the first one land—a clever woman. The man wasn't complimenting Suo. He was painting him as a performer, implying his stumble was a calculated act to fall into his arms. A hot knot of anger tightened in Sakura's gut. He saw the condescending assumption in the man's eyes: that Suo was a treacherous object, a prize looking for the highest bidder.

Then the second dart hit, aimed directly at him. Her man must be even more so, to keep her. The unspoken threat hung in the air, thick and suffocating: to keep her from a man like me. It was a sneer wrapped in a compliment, a challenge that called Sakura a fool—either too blind to see his mistress making a play, or too weak to stop a powerful man from taking what he wanted.

Sakura couldn't be sure what exact persona Suo was playing tonight, with the effortless way and openness he charmed everyone from the attendants to the guests. But one thing was as clear as daylight: he would not stand by and let anyone, no matter how powerful, strip Suo of his dignity or agency.

Suo was right. All those dicks here were trying so hard to be sophisticated and getting on Sakura’s nerves. He felt the bait, a hook meant to snag his pride. He refused to take it. But he also refused to back down.

With a subtle movement, he shifted his weight, stepping slightly in front of Suo. It wasn't an aggressive lunge, but a silent repositioning that redrew the lines of power in the conversation. He was a living shield between his partner and the circling shark.

"That's an old-fashioned and frankly, unintelligent way of thinking," Sakura said, his voice dropping to a low, cutting tone. "To assume a man must always be the sharper of the two."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air, his gaze flicking to the other men in the man's circle who were now watching the exchange with hungry attention.

"Believe me. My lady could outsmart any man in this room who thinks he can wrap her around his dirty little finger."

Sakura let his gaze sweep over the man again, cold and dismissive as he took a small step closer, his presence a quiet, unmovable wall.

"She doesn't need a 'clever man' to keep her. She chooses who is worthy of standing beside her. And of course," Sakura finished, his voice utterly flat, "that isn't you."

His words sliced through the polite hum of the hall. A beat of stunned silence followed, and then a low murmur erupted from the surrounding guests who had been watching the confrontation. From somewhere in the group, there was even a distinct, barely-suppressed snicker.

That was it. The sound of another's laughter at the man’s expense was the final humiliation. The public dismissal had turned him into a punchline. The man's smirk vanished, his face contorting into a mask of pure murderous rage. He had been beaten verbally, his status openly questioned and mocked.

There was only one way left for the man like him to reclaim his dominance. But Sakura saw it coming before the thought had even fully formed in the man’s eyes—the subtle shift of his weight, the tightening of his shoulder. He had learned from the best, after all.

The man’s left hand darted inside his suit jacket and pulled out a pistol. He recognized it instantly—a Glock G43x, slim and designed for concealment. How did he get this past the guards? He must be someone important. The thought flashed through his mind, but there was no time to dwell on it.

In a single motion that felt practiced to the bone, Sakura’s hand shot out. He clamped down on the man’s wrist, his grip like a vice, just as the man’s fingers closed around the butt of a pistol. With a sharp, brutal twist—a technique Suo had drilled into him for months in the late nights at their mansion—Sakura disarmed him, the gun now in his own hand.

Before the man in his stunned state could even process what had happened, Sakura’s fingers were a blur of motion.

Click. Clack. Click.

He unloaded the compact handgun with a brutal efficiency that spoke of countless hours of practice. In the span of two seconds, he held up the now-useless bullet magazine.

With a condescendingly gentle gesture, he slipped it into the man’s breast pocket, his fingers patting the fabric twice. The empty frame of the gun, he tucked smoothly into the back of his own waistband.

The man’s eyes were wide with shock, his mind clearly struggling to catch up to the sheer speed of his absolute public humiliation.

"I have no idea how you managed to smuggle a firearm past the front gate's security," Sakura murmured, his voice now dangerously calm. "But I'll be confiscating this, just to be safe."

He leaned in, his tone dropping to a confidential whisper. "And if I were you, I wouldn't ruin a perfectly good auction over petty pride. A clever man like you wouldn't want to miss out on what's truly valuable here tonight, would he?"

The man let out a guttural growl of pure fury, but he was beaten. He said nothing, simply turned on his heel and stormed away, his entourage scattering in his wake.

Throughout the entire commotion, Suo had remained silent, a perfectly still, elegant statue observing the chaos. But Sakura caught it—a flicker of something in those dark orange eyes behind the mask. But something that looked dangerously like satisfaction.

As the crowd's attention shifted away, Sakura gently placed a hand on the small of Suo’s back, a gesture that was both possessive and protective, and guided him back toward the relative privacy space by the bar.

Back at their table, Suo said nothing. He simply took a small, slow sip of his champagne, his masked face unreadable, before setting the glass down and crossing his arms over his chest. The silence was heavy, accusatory.

"Are you mad?" Sakura finally asked, the words tight in his throat.

"Could you tell?" Suo said, his voice clipped. "That man was about to reveal his primary bidding target. His arrogance was making him careless. Another minute of charm and he would have told me everything I needed to know. Before you interrupted."

The criticism stung, but Sakura held his ground. "So? Aren't you proud?"

That seemed to startle Suo. His head tilted. "Proud of what?"

"That your possessiveness has rubbed off on me," Sakura retorted, a defiant edge to his voice. "You've turned me into a jealous freak. Just like you."

Suo was silent for a moment, and Sakura could almost feel him processing the raw honesty of the statement.

"Were you really that jealous?" he finally asked, a note of genuine surprise in his tone. "Over a simple conversation? You know I was only gathering intel. No one would have dared to actually touch me."

"So what if I were?" Sakura shot back, his voice rising slightly. "If it were me, you wouldn't let anyone hold me like that either, would you?"

That was it. Something in Suo's posture shifted. He stood abruptly, the satin of his dress whispering in the quiet. Without a word, he took hold of Sakura’s hand, his grip surprisingly strong, and began leading him away from the bar.

"Come with me," was all he said.

He led them through a discreet side door and into a lavishly decorated restroom. Lucky for them, no one was around. He didn't stop until he had pushed Sakura back into the last stall, the heavy marble door clicking shut and locking behind them, plunging them into a small, private world.

Suo peeled their obsidian masks away, tossing them onto the toilet tank. The sudden return to identity was jarring. And then Suo kissed him.

It was a punishing kiss, a collision of frustration and pent-up desire. Sakura tasted champagne, lipstick, and Suo's raw, possessive anger all at once. Suo’s hands came up to cage Sakura’s face, his gloved fingers digging into his jaw as his mouth slanted over his, demanding and intense.

Sakura, shocked for only a second, kissed him back just as fiercely, his own hands gripping Suo’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He melted into it, the anger and jealousy dissolving into pure heat. Suo pressed closer, wedging a satin-clad thigh between Sakura’s legs and grinding their hips together in a dirty motion that sent fire straight to his groin.

Suo pulled back just enough to speak, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he looked at the visible tent in Sakura’s trousers.

"So unsatisfiable," he purred, his fingers already working at the buckle of Sakura's belt. “We couldn’t let you walk out there like this, right?”

"Suo, wait. We can't—here—" Sakura's weak protest was lost as Suo unzipped his trousers with practiced ease, freeing his already-hardening cock into the cool air of the stall.

Suo tugged the glove from his right hand with his teeth, tossing it aside before wrapping his warm, bare hand around him.

The first stroke was slow, possessive, and it stole the breath from Sakura's lungs. The risk of being caught, the tight confines of the stall, the sight of Suo in that impossible dress touching him so intimately—it was a potent, intoxicating cocktail that had his climax building with terrifying speed.

"Fuck—Suo, I'm close," he gasped, his hips twitching in Suo's grip. "Don't—you'll get it on your hand, your dress—"

"Don't you dare ruin my makeup then," Suo murmured, a final, teasing command. Then, with a grace that defied the situation, he sank to his knees.

Before Sakura could process it, Suo’s perfectly painted, deep red lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Sakura nearly screamed, the shock of it so intense it was almost painful. His back slammed against the cold marble of the stall, his fingers digging into the seams between the panels as he fought the urge to grab Suo's head, to bury his hands in that sleek, perfect wig.

Suo worked him with a devastating skill, taking him deep, his throat flexing as he swallowed him down. He pulled back just enough to tuck a stray strand of the wig behind his ear, his orange-lensed eyes, now wide and glistening, looking up at Sakura from under thick, dark lashes.

The sight of him, so beautiful and so debauched, shattered Sakura’s control. A strangled groan tore from his throat as he came, his body convulsing, his fist flying up to muffle the sound against his own mouth.

Suo didn't flinch. He took all of him, swallowing once, before rising gracefully back to his feet. He licked his lips in an utterly sinful fashion.

"You came so fast," he mused, his voice a low purr. "Is it because I'm so pretty in this dress?"

Sakura was still panting, his mind a haze of pleasure.

"You're always pretty," he blurted out, the words croaked and honest.

There was a faint flush of color rising on Suo's ears. Suo raised a hand, his thumb gently swiping away a smear of his own lipstick from the corner of Sakura’s mouth.

"You didn't have to... swallow," Sakura said, clearing his throat.

"Don't fuss," Suo replied, his tone dismissive but fond. "I don’t like the taste of alcohol and the champagne they're serving out there is awful. I needed a fine delicacy to refresh my palate."

He said with a wink. This time, it was Sakura who flushed crimson.

With a series of deft movements, Suo helped Sakura fix his trousers and straighten his tie, restoring his presentable facade. He stepped back, his gaze sharp and appraising.

"There," Suo smirked, the Mrs. Ashiro persona completely gone. "Feeling more relaxed now, aren't you?"

Suo knew. He knew Sakura had been on edge, wound tight from the unfamiliar, opulent surroundings.

Sakura could only nod, his mind still reeling from the intensity of the kiss. Suo gave him a final, lingering look before turning to unlock the stall. Just as he pushed the door open, he glanced back over his shoulder, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

"And I am proud," he said, his voice dropping to that intimate whisper again. "It means my man wants to keep me just as much as I want to keep him."

And Sakura knew, from the deep, satisfied smirk Suo had worn just moments ago, that his Oyabun had loved every single second of his jealous, possessive outburst in the hall, and what had just happened in this restroom stall was his reward. And Sakura couldn’t tell he was complaining.

He took another deep breath, his composure finally restored, and exited the restroom. He found Suo waiting in the quiet hallway, seemingly adjusting the glittering brooch on his fur stole.

"Hey," Sakura said, his curiosity getting the better of him as he fell into step beside him. "What did that worm say to you, anyway? The one that made you laugh so hard."

A sly smile played on Suo's lips. "He said that if I were an item up for auction tonight, he'd be sure to place the highest bid."

Sakura scowled. "That's not even funny."

"True," Suo admitted, his expression turning more mischievous. "But I needed an excuse. It was Momijikawa."

The name hit Sakura immediately. "What? How could you know? I thought everyone's identity was confidential."

"It is," Suo confirmed, tapping a gloved finger to the side of his mask. "Remember Nirei’s intel? Momijikawa has a prosthetic right hand. I saw him set his glass down earlier using his left hand. It was a long shot, but I needed to check for myself.

Sakura's mind raced, connecting the dots with a jolt of awe. "So you—you did purposely fall into his arms? Just to feel for the prosthetic through the glove?"

Suo nodded, a wicked glint flashing in his dark orange eyes. "Let's just say I was inspired by your performance during heels training. Falling into someone's arms can be a very effective tactic."

Sakura fumed at the reminder, though there was no real heat to it now. It was overshadowed by a grudging admiration for Suo's audacity. The man was infuriatingly brilliant.

"Still," Suo said, his tone shifting, a hint of genuine regret creeping in, "It's a shame your interruption cut our conversation short. We missed a chance to learn his primary target for tonight."

"Does it matter?" Sakura asked. "As long as someone buys the Prometheus Ore, the plan still works, right? It doesn't have to be him."

"True," Suo conceded. "But Momijikawa is one of Takiishi’s most influential and wealthiest backers. If not the most."

So that was it. Sakura’s chest tightened. That was why Suo had been genuinely upset. It wasn't about a ruined social interaction; it was about a flaw in a meticulously crafted plan. And Sakura's jealousy had been the cause. The feeling was a complex, uncomfortable mix of guilt for his impulsiveness and a strange, possessive pride that Suo's plans revolved so heavily around him.

As they stepped back into the main hall, a chime echoed through the room, its clear tone cutting through the low hum of conversation. The masked guests began to move toward the plush, tiered seating that faced a large, elevated stage. They had made it back just in time. The bidding was about to begin.

They took their assigned seats in the second tier, a prime vantage point that offered a clear view of the stage and the other bidders. Sakura noticed Momijikawa was seating two table away. This was good. The distance was close enough for them to watch him, and far enough for them to discuss without being heard.

A man in a sharp white tuxedo and a silver mask stepped into the spotlight on the stage, his voice amplified by a hidden microphone, booming through the hall.

"Welcome, esteemed guests, to an evening of unparalleled opportunity."

Sakura leaned closer to Suo, his own voice a low, disguised murmur against the fur of Suo's stole. "That's not Takiishi."

"Of course not," Suo whispered back, his gaze fixed on the stage, though his attention felt much broader. "Takiishi is the man who pulls the strings; he would never reveal his face in a place like this. He prefers to watch from the shadows."

As he spoke, Suo lifted his chin almost imperceptibly, a subtle gesture toward the upper levels of the hall.

Sakura's gaze followed. He hadn't noticed them before, but now he saw them: a series of private, curtained balconies encircling the top tier of the hall, their velvet drapes drawn shut, concealing whoever—or whatever—was inside. Takiishi was up there. Watching.

A cold knot of unease tightened in Sakura’s stomach. He discreetly scanned the row of balconies, his mind racing. Which one are you in? He imagined Takiishi and Endo behind one of those curtains, their eyes on the crowd, on them. The feeling of being watched, of being a player on a stage for an unseen audience, was a chilling weight.

"And now, for our first item of the evening..." the auctioneer's voice boomed, snapping Sakura's focus back to the stage. The game was on.

The preliminary items were a procession of rare, illicit minerals from District 4. Sakura remained perfectly still, a silent, imposing figure of disinterest. He watched the prices climb into the millions, then tens of millions, without so much as twitching. Beside him, Suo was a statue of elegant grace. They were waiting. Sakura noticed Momijikawa, two tiers below, was also completely motionless. The big players were holding their cards.

When the sixth item, a raw, uncut emerald the size of a fist, was presented, Suo leaned in.

"This one, we only skip the first round," he murmured, his voice a breath against Sakura’s ear. "The second round is where we start joining."

“Why? This stone isn’t our target.”

“Exactly,” Suo said. “We don’t want anyone to get suspicious what is our real target, so we will bid something.”

Sakura lifted his paddle. "Thirty million yen.” He placed a slightly higher bid than the last bidder—this should be enough to hold their presence.

“You would make us sound broke,” Suo chuckled. "When it's your turn again, double his last offer.”

Sakura was confused. “Are we throwing money out the windows?”

Sakura had scraped dirt for a coin his whole younghood and now Suo just ordered him to throw a price of a whole penthouse for a stone? Not that he had any knowledge about real estate, or gems, but still.

“Isn’t it safe to bid up gradually like this? We still get the chance to win after all.”

Suo hummed. “If you bid small, no one would pay you any respect and rivalry concerns for you here. Power in this room isn't just about what you can buy—it's about what you're willing to burn."

Sakura let it sink it for a moment and finally understood. This wasn't a marketplace; it was a theater of dominance and the connection one got after successfully project their powers.

The bid had reached eighty million. Then, paddle 77 shot up. Momijikawa.

"One hundred and fifty million," the man declared, his voice carrying a challenging edge.

“And my guess is right. Momijikawa didn’t bid the first round but only now like us.” Suo said. Sakura could even hear Suo’s own smirk even in his female voice. "It seems like he still holds a grudge against you."

"Oh isn’t it a good thing then?” Sakura grinned, an idea sparking in his mind. "Since he doesn’t actually want this emerald, he might as well not bet his own fortune on it, then we should definitely win this one. Get him bitter and hooked for the main event."

Suo looked at him and blinked. He seemed genuinely surprised. “Not only you got a gist of this whole bidding, you can even read the competitors now. My man surely is clever, isn’t he?”

The praise got Sakura’s stomach do somersault. He really, really liked the feeling. He pressed his thigh against Suo’s even tighter.

The bid climbed to two hundred. It was Sakura's turn.

"Triple it. Six hundred," he declared, the number so absurdly high it drew a collective gasp from the surrounding tables.

He felt Suo going completely still beside him for a second, before a warm squeeze landed on his thigh under the table.

"You ravenous kitten, I don’t remember raising you like this," Suo purred as he draped himself over Sakura’s shoulder and let out a satisfied chuckle. “I might just really use this gem to put another ring on your finger.”

Sakura’s face burned at the indication. He cleared his throat and loosened his necktie a little. Suddenly this hall was very hot. And Suo, pretty and smelling so damn nice next to him, was very hot too. Sakura just wanted this auction to be over and they would be tangled up in their mansion right away.

As expected, Momijikawa's paddle remained down. The man’s jaws clenched so hard Sakura saw a vein popping, his lips pursing unhappily. They had won the emerald, but more importantly, they had baited their shark.

Finally, the auctioneer's tone shifted. The lights dimmed, focusing on a single, lead-lined case. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," he purred, "our final and most exclusive item. Codenamed 'The Prometheus Ore,' we will start the bidding at five hundred million."

The bidding was immediate and ferocious. Sakura, guided by Suo's calm, whispered numbers, cut through the competition with brutal, aggressive raises, knocking out smaller players until only three paddles remained in the air.

A bidder with the number 25, Momijikawa's 77, and his own 41.

"One point two billion," Bidder 25 called out.

It was Sakura's turn.

Suo leaned in, his voice a final command. "Retreat now, Sakura. The plan works as long as the ore is sold to anyone here but us. Even if Momijikawa folds, we're safe."

The order was clear. It was the safe move, the logical one. But Sakura's mind flashed back to what Suo had said in the hallway: Momijikawa is Takiishi's most influential backer. ’Safe’ wasn't good enough. He had to push him over the edge. For Suo. For the mission.

He ignored the subtle pressure of Suo's hand on his arm, the shocked stillness that followed as he lifted his paddle.

"One point five billion," Sakura declared.

He felt Suo's sharp gasp beside him. It was Momijikawa's turn. Sakura watched as the man hesitated, his hand hovering over his paddle, a flicker of doubt in his posture. He was at his limit.

This was his chance. Sakura let out a purposefully loud chuckle that cut through the tense silence. He saw Momijikawa’s head snap in their direction. Knowing he had the man's full attention, Sakura turned to Suo. In a gesture of intimate, theatrical ownership, he reached out and began to gently scratch under Suo’s chin.

"I suppose I'll be taking home the best prize of the night after all, darling," he whispered, just loud enough to be overheard.

Suo, catching on in a brilliant flash, played his part to perfection. He leaned into the touch, a soft, musical purr of amusement vibrating in his chest as he nudged his masked face against Sakura’s hand.

That was the final drop of gasoline.

Momijikawa let out a guttural growl. "THREE BILLION!" he roared, slamming his paddle down. "THAT SHOULD END IT!"

The hall erupted in shocked murmurs. Sakura pretended to join them, feigning a gasp before slowly, with a bored click of his tongue, holding down his paddle to signal his retreat. Beside him, Suo let out a long, dramatical sigh of disappointment, turning away as if sulking.

The auctioneer, his own voice trembling, brought the gavel down.

"SOLD! To bidder 77 for three billion!"

Momijikawa shot to his feet, a triumphant, manic laugh echoing through the hall. He slammed a fist on his table and pointed directly at them.

"I ALWAYS GET WHAT I WANT!" he boomed, his voice thick with victory and venom.

With a final feigned sigh of disappointment, Suo stood from his seat and tucked on Sakura’s arm.

“Let’s leave.” It was a short command with a lipsticked pout.

The guests at the surrounding tables turned to look at them—well, mostly at Suo. They still seemed very transfixed with his charm. Momijikawa’s predatory eyes were also on them, his smirk wide.

"Leaving so soon?" One of them asked, his tone laced with probing curiosity. "I was hoping for a deeper conversation. Perhaps we could be valuable partners."

He had long blonde hair that tied up neatly and sharp eyes. Sakura realized he was one of the guests that had witnessed Sakura handling Momijikawa earlier. Maybe he had been suspecting something off with Suo and Sakura.

Sakura clenched his jaws. With all his wits overspent on the bidding battle, he was now deserted of something to say. Fortunately, Suo always had a script ready.

“How impolite of me, I do apologize,” Suo said, inclining his head in a gesture of elegant regret. “It’s my birthday, you see, and my man here promised me the Prometheus Ore as a gift. But I suppose one should never take a man’s promise too seriously.”

This earned some snickers from the guests around them. Sakura wondered if they were really that easy to be entertained or just simply so fake-assed they gave off charity laughers at everything.

Suo didn’t seem to stop. His voice taking on a note of playful warning. "I must admit, I'm utterly disappointed. And you wouldn't want to see me in a bad mood, which I fully intend to spend exclusively on my man tonight."

That drew a round of low, rich laughter—the kind that reeked of wealth and amusement at another's expense. Sakura wanted out of this viper's nest.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Suo said, his performance complete.

He lifted his chin, turned with a graceful pivot, and made a beeline for the exit, not once looking back to see if Sakura was following.

Sakura played his part, letting out a long-suffering sigh before striding after him, perfectly embodying the role of a man about to face the wrath of a scorned and very expensive lover. He could feel the guests' eyes on his back, but their gazes were now filled with amusement, not suspicion. No one questioned their early departure anymore.

They emerged from the glasshouse into the dark night outside, the air cool and damp. As they walked toward the designated spot where Hiragi had left their getaway car a safe distance from the glasshouse, the first sounds of chaos erupted behind them.

There were no gunshots, no explosions—just the sharp, professional screech of tires on the gravel path and the disciplined, muffled shouts of a tactical team. Beams from powerful flashlights sliced through the decaying garden, pinning escaping guests like panicked insects. The raid had begun. Their plan had worked.

"It's started," Sakura said, his pace quickening to match Suo’s long strides.

"Right on schedule," Suo replied, his tone calm—nothing like the storm inside that auction hall. "Nakamura's team is efficient."

As they reached the car, the full, brilliant scope of Suo's plan laid bare in Sakura's mind, a masterpiece of interlocking traps. Suo hadn't just baited Momijikawa; he had colluded directly with Officer Nakamura and, by extension, the military.

———

One week prior

“Haruka Sakura, nice to finally meet you again.”

Sakura looked up from where he was stuffing karaage into his mouth. He’d lost count of how many times they had returned to this small izakaya. Each time Suo asked him where he wanted to eat, they somehow ended up here. Who could blame him? Granny Ito’s karaage was the best, a fierce rival to Kotoha’s omurice.

The man who spoke was Nakamura. He had cropped black hair and assessing eyes that held the quiet intensity of a seasoned officer. He took a seat next to Suo, who didn't flinch at the proximity—a silent testament to their long-standing trust.

“We met before?” Sakura asked after swallowing, ready for the real talk to begin. His dinner would have to be packed to go.

“You never mentioned your Kobun is a rude one, Suo-kun,” Nakamura commented, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he leaned back, casually regarding Sakura.

Before Sakura could get his hackles up, Suo let out a soft laugh.

“He’s just awfully shy around strangers. Please be more understanding.” He then turned to Sakura. “This is Officer Nakamura. He’s the one who ensured his team found you on the riverbank that year.”

The information landed with a quiet weight. So the police hadn’t just randomly found him back there, not without the help of this man. Nakamura was also part of Sakura’s story long before he knew it. Remembering Suo’s words about showing respect and gratitude at the right time, Sakura knew this was one of those moments. He immediately stood and bowed deeply.

“Officer Nakamura,” he said, his voice stiff with a formality he was still getting used to, a flush creeping up his neck. “I apologize for my rudeness. Thank you for saving me. It’s an honor to meet you again.”

Nakamura's gruff exterior cracked, and he let out a hearty laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “Last time I saw you, you were a lot soggier and less lively, kid. I think I like this time better.”

He gestured for Sakura to sit, the initial tension between them dissolving.
Sakura took his seat again, his back straight, his attention rapt. It was time for the main dish.

“Better indeed,” Suo said, his own amusement fading as he set down his teacup. His gaze met Nakamura, the mood shifting instantly to one of grim purpose. “This time, we have a chance to land a significant blow against the Master.”

Nakamura’s expression hardened. “What do you have in mind?”

“We take down his Queen,” Suo said, his voice low and steady. “Takiishi.”

Sakura watched as Suo went through their plan with Nakamura. The man stayed silent for a long moment after Suo had finished.

“And how do you expect me to convince the military to lend you a piece of Antimonium ore?” Nakamura mused, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “It’s one of their most critical strategic assets, not to mention they’re facing a shortage.”

“It’s exactly because they’re facing the shortage. This is our leverage,” Suo countered, his tone matter-of-fact. “My intel confirms Takiishi’s men found a new Antimonium vein in District 4. He’s putting a piece up for the auction. Once Takiishi is down, his entire illegal stockpile will belong to the military in return for the one piece they lend us. A win-win for everyone.”

Nakamura fell silent, considering the audacious proposal. “And if this goes wrong? If Takiishi’s people catch you?”

Suo’s answer was swift, unflinching. “It won’t. And I won’t get caught. Not like last time.”

The two men held each other's gaze for a long moment. Sakura sat perfectly still, silently praying that Nakamura would see the same unwavering resolve in Suo that he did. Finally, Nakamura nodded, a decision made. He shot his hand across the table.

“It’s settled then,” he said, his voice now hard as steel. “I’ll deal with the military. My squad will raid the auction at ten p.m. to recover the asset, regardless of your success in baiting the target. Be out by then, unless you want to get swept up with the rest of them. It would be a headache to get you out of that mess.”

“Deal.”

Suo took Nakamura’s hand, the handshake a brief, brutal meeting of force that was over in a second. It was a pact sealed not in trust, but in a shared, desperate need to see a monster fall.

Nakamura said his last words before leaving, his tone warmer now as though talking with a sibling. “You only get one shot at this, Suo. Don’t miss.”

“I won’t.”

———

Present

The Prometheus Ore they had goaded Momijikawa into buying was, in fact, a registered, high-value strategic asset "borrowed" from the military. Suo, through his inside man Sako, had arranged for this military-grade ore to be swapped with the nearly identical mineral Takiishi had been stockpiling from District 4.

It was a win-win for all authorities.

The military not only got their own valuable asset back after the raid, but they also acquired Takiishi's entire smuggled stockpile as a bonus. It was a deal too good for them to refuse.

Nakamura's police squad had every right to storm the event. The genius of it was its perfect legality. With confirmed stolen military property on the auction block, they could bypass all diplomatic immunities and syndicate protections. Everyone inside—the bidders, the staff, the host—was now an accomplice in a major act of military theft.

To Hayato family in a more detailed level, it was a devastatingly elegant double trap for their leverage against Takiishi and ultimately The Master.

Takiishi, as the host who brought the "stolen" item to market, was framed as the master thief and in jails in no time. And his most significant backer Momijikawa, by winning the bid, was now in direct possession of a stolen military asset, a crime that would see him buried for decades.

Takiishi’s network of powerful allies, now being rounded up for interrogation, would believe Takiishi had sold them out. His empire would crumble overnight, not from a bloody war, but from the cold, clean stroke of a pen.

It was a blow that would not only neutralize Takiishi, but would also cripple the Master's influence, free District 4, and potentially open a path for Suo to claim District 2 in the ensuing power vacuum.

Just as Sakura was allowing himself a moment of victory, Suo's phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID—0501. The coded number for Officer Nakamura.

Suo answered, his voice a clipped, "Yes?" He listened, his posture going rigid. "Not in the balconies? Traces, but no sight... Understood."

He hung up, his gaze locking with Sakura's. The night wasn't over.

"They're gone," Suo said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Nakamura's team has secured the hall, but Takiishi and Endo weren’t in the main viewing areas."

"A separate exit tunnel?" Sakura asked, his own adrenaline spiking.

"It would have to be," Suo murmured, his mind already working. "He wouldn't risk being trapped."

Sakura's gaze flicked toward the decaying glasshouse, recalling Suo's wistful description. "You know this place," he stated, less a question and more an observation. "Do you know where they'd go?"

"This garden had three old service tunnels," Suo explained, his voice tight with focus. "One leads to the hall entrance. The other two—"

His eyes narrowed, and for a second, he looked as if he was seeing something else entirely—something from long ago. A feral glint ignited in their depths.

"Yes," he said, his voice now a blade of pure certainty. "I know exactly which tunnel he would take."

He slammed the car into gear, the tires spitting gravel as they tore away from the glasshouse and onto a dark, unmarked access road.

"Get your gun," he commanded, his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. "We're finishing this ourselves."

———

Just as Suo had predicted, they reached the unmarked access road just in time to see the headlights of a black sedan tear out of a hidden tunnel gate, spitting gravel as it swerved onto the asphalt.

"There," Suo said, his voice tight.

He slammed his foot on the accelerator, and their own car surged forward, the powerful engine roaring to life in the quiet of the night.

The chase was on. Suo drove with formidable skills, his hands steady on the wheel as he expertly navigated the dark, winding road. He closed the distance between their vehicles with a speed that pressed Sakura back into his seat. They were gaining fast, the taillights of the sedan growing from red smudges to harsh, bright glares.

Suddenly, the sedan's rear window rolled down. The glint of a gun barrel caught the moonlight, followed by the unmistakable silhouette of Takiishi leaning out. A muzzle flash lit up the darkness. The crack of the gunshot was deafening.

Without a word, Suo wrenched the wheel to the left, the car swerving violently. The bullet whizzed past Sakura's window, close enough for him to hear its sharp hiss as it tore through the air.

"Hold tight," Suo commanded as he spun the wheel again, this time aiming the car not at the road ahead, but at a steep, overgrown embankment that bordered it. "We're taking a shortcut."

The car lurched as it left the smooth asphalt, tires clawing for purchase on the rough, muddy slope. Branches scraped and screeched against the windows, the chassis groaning in protest as they bounced over rocks and uneven terrain.

But Suo's control was terrifying. Another man would be leading them to their deaths, but Sakura felt no fear, only the jarring thrill of the hunt. He navigated the treacherous path with an unshakable focus, his eyes fixed on some unseen route through the darkness.

They crested the small hill and began their descent. Below them, Takiishi's car was just passing. Suo didn't hesitate. He floored the gas, sending them hurtling down the slope. They hit the road with a jarring thud just ahead of their targets.

With a screech of tortured rubber, Suo swerved the car around in a perfect 180-degree turn, now facing them head-on, their high beams blinding the enemy driver.

Behind the wheel of the other car, Endo was clearly caught completely off guard. He slammed on the brakes, the sedan fishtailing slightly as it slowed. But Suo didn't stop.

He kept their car moving forward at a steady, menacing crawl, a predator closing in on its prey, until the front bumper of their car collided with the sedan's with a final crunch of metal on metal.

"I'll get them," Sakura said and he was already moving.

He climbed halfway out of the passenger-side window, balancing precariously on the door frame. Then, with a surge of pure adrenaline, he launched himself forward.

He crashed through the sedan's windshield in an explosion of tempered glass. The sheer, brutal force of the impact and the shower of sharp debris was enough—he landed directly on Endo, the driver, whose body went limp beneath him, knocked out cold by the violent collision.

In the same chaotic second, Sakura's left hand shot out, grabbing the wrist of Takiishi's gun hand, while his right hand brought his own pistol up, aiming for Takiishi's shoulder.

But Takiishi was terrifyingly fast. Before Sakura could pull the trigger, Takiishi’s free hand clamped around his wrist like a steel trap, forcing his aim away. The gun fired, the deafening blast contained within the small space, the bullet tearing through the empty backseat.

For a heart-stopping moment, they were locked in a stalemate—a tangled mess of limbs, each man with a gun pointed at the other, Sakura’s gun hand completely immobilized in Takiishi’s grip. A thought struck him. He did have another weapon with him.

There was no room to maneuver, no leverage. A desperate, street-fighter's instinct took over. Sakura reared his head back and then slammed it forward, headbutting Takiishi squarely on the bridge of his nose.

Takiishi roared in pain, his head snapping back, his grip faltering for just a fraction of a second. It was all Sakura needed. As Takiishi’s hold loosened, Sakura ripped his hand free and simultaneously drew the Glock he had taken from Momijikawa earlier. He had removed the magazine, but he knew there was still one round left in the chamber.

He squeezed the trigger.

The Glock bucked in his hand. The bullet tore into Takiishi's thigh. Takiishi screamed, a sound of pure agony and shock, but he recovered with horrifying speed. His grip on Sakura's wrist vanished, but his other hand was already bringing his own gun back into position, aiming for Sakura's chest.

Just as Takiishi was about to fire, his own door was yanked open from the outside. Suo reached in, his movements a blur of controlled violence. He slammed the side of his hand against Takiishi’s wrist, knocking the gun from his fist. Then, he grabbed a fistful of Takiishi's jacket and hauled him bodily out of the car, wrestling him face-down onto the rough asphalt of the road.

"Send Nakamura our location," Suo ordered, his knee pressed firmly into Takiishi's back.

Sakura quickly sent their coordinates to Nakamura's line. "They're coming," he informed Suo, his own adrenaline still singing in his veins.

Pinned under Suo's knee, Takiishi let out a ragged, pained laugh. There was something insidious in the sound.

"You think we came unprepared for a moment like this? If I go down, you will go with me," he rasped, craning his neck to look up at Suo. "Shouldn't you be running now? Or is there something more important than protecting your secrets, my dear kyodai?"

Sakura saw Suo's knee press harder onto Takiishi’s frame. “Don’t beat around the bush. What do you mean?”

Takiishi's voice was laced with a triumphant venom. "Nakamura's men will be going over my entire operation with a fine-toothed comb in a matter of time, won't they? Your little files are still safe in my site. Guess what will happen when they find what's hidden there. To you.”

Sakura saw Suo's posture go rigid, just for a second. “Don't be laughable. I got my men wiped them clean the moment I left that industrial hellhole.”

Takiishi’s golden eyes glinted with pure malice, his cruel smirk widening across his bloody face.

"You mean the soft copies," he corrected, savoring the moment. "Your boy Nirei is good, I'll give him that. But how could he possibly get his hands on the hard copies I printed out for my own entertainment, long before any of you even knew they existed?"

Sakura saw it then. The barely contained surge of white-hot rage radiated off Suo. And there was more than that. He could see Suo’s vulnerability now when it just as much flickered on his features. And he hated that look on him.

“Whatever files they are,” Sakura finally spoke up, hands clenching into fists. “We need to go get rid of them, right, Suo-san?”

Takiishi practically chuckled. “You sure you want him to see?”

Sakura saw the shift in Suo's expression, the last flicker of emotion draining away to be replaced by something cold and violent. With a chilling lack of ceremony, Suo reversed his pistol and brought the butt down hard on the back of Takiishi's head. The man went limp immediately. Suo straightened up, his face a mask of grim urgency.

"Sakura, stay here. Keep watch of them and make sure Nakamura's team get them." He was already moving toward their car. “And go home right when this is over.”

"They’ll be here in minutes," Sakura said, rushing to Suo's side and grabbing his arm. “Wait. We can go together.”

"We don’t have time," Suo said, already sliding into the driver's seat. "I'll explain later."

Sakura just stood frozen there, his feet rooted on the ground despite his heart screamed at him to follow Suo. Suo needed to fight another battle, and Sakura would stay and finish this one. It was a mission they would complete together, even while apart. So he just nodded.

Before Suo closed the door, he held his gaze with Sakura. “I promise.”

With that, the car's engine roared to life, and before Sakura could say another word, Suo sped off into the darkness, leaving Sakura alone on the asphalt, the echo of that promise hanging in the air. The storm of questions in his mind still raged, but beneath it, a new resolve had taken root. This time, he would have unwavering faith in his Oyabun.

———

The silence after Suo’s departure was deafening. The minutes stretched into an eternity as Sakura paced the length of the dark road, the crunch of his own shoes on the asphalt grating on his nerves.

He kept his gun trained on the two unconscious men, but his mind was already miles away, racing alongside Suo. What if this is a trap that lures Suo? Will he be capable of fighting alone? Not to mention that dress and those high heels?!

The questions gnawed at him, but he shoved them down. He had a job to do. Suo was strong, and he could always call for immediate reinforcement from their family.

Finally, the flashing red and blue lights of Nakamura's squad cars cut through the night. The vehicles screeched to a halt, and officers swarmed the scene with professional efficiency. As they hauled the limp bodies of Takiishi and Endo into the back of an armored van, Nakamura approached Sakura, his face grim but satisfied.

"Impressive work, kid," he said, his gaze taking in the shattered windshield of the sedan and around. "Where's Suo?"

Sakura met the officer's gaze without flinching. He thought of the hunted look in Suo's eye, the sheer urgency of his departure. Whatever those files were, they seemed to be a secret that lived and died with Suo, something that could not be trusted to official channels, not even to an ally like Nakamura.

"He went back to the mansion," Sakura lied. "He was worried Takiishi's remaining forces might try a retaliatory strike while our primary defenses were focused here. He went to secure our territory."

Nakamura considered this for a moment, then nodded, the explanation plausible enough.

“Yes, one can never be too careful." He seemed content, his main targets now in custody. He gestured to one of his subordinates. "Officer Hidaka, give him a ride back to his district."

A standard police car pulled up, and Sakura got in the back. They drove in silence, the adrenaline slowly draining from his body, but the image of Suo alone and racing toward an unknown threat made his stomach clench.

Just when the car turned onto the main road, Sakura leaned forward.

"This is fine, you can drop me here," he said, his tone polite but firm. "The family can get unsettled if they saw official vehicles so close to the estate. It's a security precaution. I can call a cab from here."

Sakura didn't call a cab home. He called one and got to Takiishi’s stronghold—the industrial site. Maybe he could still make it in time. Maybe Suo would need him.

He had the driver drop him at the edge of the forest that bordered the site, a safe distance away in case Nakamura's teams were already cordoning off the area.

He ran then, sprinting through the dark, dense trees, branches whipping at his face. Adrenaline was a fire in his veins. He ran until the forest thinned and he reached the edge of a clearing, where a short, rusted metal bridge crossed a shallow, stagnant river. And then he stopped.

A horrible, sinking feeling coiled in the pit of his stomach, so intense it made him nauseous. The air felt wrong. The bridge—this bridge. There was something devastatingly familiar about it.

He staggered a little. His back bumped into someone. He hadn’t sensed them coming with the sudden haze in his mind. He immediately pushed off the figure and swiveled around to face them, getting into his fighting poise, shaking his head to clear the fog in his head.

Figures were emerging from the shadows of the trees. A group of men stood at the far end of the bridge, blocking his path. They had been waiting for him. It was an ambush.

A tall man with messy, slicked-back reddish-brown hair stepped forward, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. But it was the tattoo that made Sakura's blood run cold. A skeletal blue dragon snaked its way up the entire column of his neck, its bones stark against his skin. The design was brutally familiar. Suo had shown him the intel files. These men were Keel.

"Well, well," the leader said, his voice a low, mocking drawl. "I can't believe you were so easy to lure. And lucky for us, it looks like your precious Oyabun isn't here to save your ass this time."

"Touch me, and Suo will make sure you don't see tomorrow," Sakura snarled, his hand already moving to the gun at his back.

The man let out a manic laugh. "You're so trusting of that man you call your boss. Let's see if you still feel the same after you see these."

He reached into his coat and threw a thick stack of photographs onto the ground at Sakura's feet. They scattered across the dirt, face up. Sakura refused to look down. To lose focus now, to let his guard drop for even a second, would be a death sentence.

He drew his pistol, the movement a deadly arc, and aimed it squarely at the leader's chest.

"Take another step, and I'll shoot," he warned, his voice steady despite the thunder of his own heart.

He knew he was outnumbered, hopelessly outmatched, but he wouldn't go down without a fight.

And then, a searing pain exploded in his back. An electric shock ripped through his entire body, locking his muscles and sending him crashing face-down onto the ground. The gun flew from his nerveless fingers.

A man behind him had used a taser. He struggled, muscles twitching uncontrollably, snarling up at the Keel leader like a cornered animal.

The man's manic laughter echoed in the quiet clearing. "This should shut the little dog up."

He knelt, pressing a cloth soaked in a sharp chemical scent over Sakura's nose and mouth. The world began to tilt, the edges of his vision blurring into a dark swirling vortex. He was being pulled down into unconsciousness.

But before the blankness took him completely, his gaze caught a glimpse of some photographs from the scattered stack on the ground.

There were various scenes. And in all of them there was a man. A gun aimed at piles of corpses at a tunnel gate. A knife sunk deep in a woman’s chest. A silhouette against a burning building. The man's hair was different lengths in each photo, sometimes long, sometimes short, but there was no mistaking the profile, the posture, the cold, efficient grace of the killer. Blood painted his face, but nothing was redder than the glint of death in his single eye.

It was Suo.