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For someone who lived a life like his, Samatoki got stressed out over details quite easily. He didn’t take pride on it; it was some sort of habit, not meticulous or dignified enough to classify it as any species of perfectionism, but firmly present in his every actions. He wasn’t particularly proud of how easy it was to rile him up with little things he didn’t like, how he snapped easily at situations and made stupid, heat-of-the-moment decisions. But once in a while, he could appreciate his eye for details in a different kind of environment than an illegal weapon trade or a high-risk drug traffic operation.
He could use that eye for detail in making sure his little sister was looking her best for her special day.
In all honesty, he was sure she looked stunning no matter how much he adjusted her hair ornaments or made sure her veil was set correctly: the youngest Aohitsugi had a natural glow to her, pale skin and snow hair contrasting her red eyes. But at the same time, it was almost difficult for him to see her like this; his little sister, who he’d seen as a little child, covered in bandaids from when she tripped and crying about the monster under the bed, was suddenly not a little girl anymore: suddenly, he had gone from helping her climb the stairs to helping her get ready for her wedding.
“I’m- oh my god, pass me the water, please, oh god, oh god,” she said, fanning her face with her hand. Samatoki quickly reached for the bottle of water, handing it to the younger woman. She uncapped the bottle, tossing the cap somewhere in the room, and drank down the water like her life depended on it.
“Everythin’ ok?” he asked, peering at her face in the mirror. She was sitting in the room of a high-end salon (he’d rented out a room for her to get ready in- the hair and makeup people had finished their jobs already, but she still had some time before she had to go to the actual event), her white dress spilling out of the plush chair and into the carpet. The mirror in front of her reflected her perfectly: rosy cheeks, perfect hair, and nerves fighting with excitement to take over.
“I- yeah, I’m ok. It’s just, well, y’know… I can’t believe this is all happening?” she said shakily, putting the empty water bottle down, plastic slightly deformed after her vice grip had released it. “I’m… I’m about to get married, Toki. It’s, it’s just… This feels like a dream.”
“Hey, it’s all real. Or do ya need me to pinch your cheek to prove it to you?” asked Samatoki, chuckling a bit. His sister slapped his hand away- not that he’d actually intended to touch her, seeing as she’d probably decapitate him if he messed up her makeup now- and rolled her eyes.
“Hey, c’mon, you’re supposed to be the emotional one!” she said, pouting playfully. “Your baby sister is getting married! Aren’t you going to make like, a big scene about how I better be treated right, and threaten my fiance, and all that ruckus?”
She couldn’t even finish her sentence with a straight face, before she began to laugh at the idea of it. Samatoki couldn’t help but laugh along as well; surely, what his sister had just described was probably what most people who didn’t know him well. His henchmen were probably joking around back at the main headquarters, about how he’d do something like tear the wedding down or kill the fiance before the kiss or something. They saw him as the irritable and dangerous yakuza boss he was (because after all, he couldn’t afford having his own men thinking he was a softie or anything). But to his sister, the image of him even causing the smallest incident during the ceremony was nothing short of a hilarious fantasy.
After all, she knew very well he wouldn’t even dream of ruining the wedding. Samatoki knew too well this was her day: ever since she’d proposed six months ago, she had talked about nothing else other than the wedding. He’d never admit it out loud, but he’d actually had nightmares the days leading up to the event, that his mere presence there would ruin everything (what if one of his enemies decided to pay a visit and harmed the guests? What if he accidentally got angry and punched someone and ruined everything? What if security was breached and he got everyone in a dangerous situation? Should he even attend the wedding? Wasn’t he a risk factor to his sister’s dream day?), going as far as to ramp up the security, having twice as many guards and lookouts as he did for actual illegal activities. This was her day, this was her slice of heaven, her moment of happiness; it didn’t even need to be said he’d gladly cut off his own fingers to ensure everything went well.
“I’m fuckin’ emotional over here! What, you want me to go visit your girl and tell her you’re egging me to punch the guests or somethin’? Geez.” he said, playfully slapping her shoulder, then realizing that he had no idea if the makeup technicians had for some reason decided a strapless wedding dress required makeup in that area. “... There was, uh, no makeup on your shoulder, right?”
“No, don’t worry. You didn’t slap off any valuable shoulder foundation.” she said, her tone much calmer. Still, she was fidgeting, her legs bouncing and making the whole mass of lace and ribbons of her dress move like a wave of snow. “... Aaaaah, I miss her… Toki… It’s been almost twenty four hours now… I can’t even imagine how she looks… I mean, I saw her dress because we shopped together, so it coordinated, but… Ah, it’s not the same! I didn’t see her with the dress on!”
“You will soon enough, calm down. Jesus, one whole day without seeing your fiance and you turn like this?” asked Samatoki playfully. “At this rate you’re gonna fuckin’ faint when you walk into the chapel, and then what? I can’t work miracles ‘n bring ya back, kiddo, I’m not that Shinjuku doctor.”
“Tch! As if I’d faint over something like that! Over… Seeing my girlfriend in her wedding dress. About to marry me. Surrounded by flowers. In her wedding dress.” His sister’s voice grew quieter as she mumbled those words, and her bright red eyes suddenly snapped open as she jumped out of the chair and gripped his shoulders. “Samatoki I might actually faint. Holy shit.”
“Jesus, fuckin’... Language! Fuck’s sake…” he said, as his sister shaked him back and forth. “Don’t grip me so tight! The shirt’s too nice to get all wrinkly so early on!”
“I let you attend my wedding in a hawaiian style shirt, so I get to do this if I want!” she retaliated, still holding his shoulders and moving him back and forth. “Also! I just stood up and realized these heels might kill me! So I’ll be gripping you for dear life when you’re walking me down the altar anyways!”
“What’s the point of heels? Can’t even see your feet with that long-ass dress.”
“... To look taller?”
“Ah, gotcha. Forgot your girlfriend, or well, sorry, your bride, has like ten centimeters on you.” he said. Was it immature and below him to tease someone for being short? Yeah. Was it his duty as an older brother to do it? Well, not really anymore, not at his current age- but it was absolutely a comment that’d get his sister riled up and avoid having her faint thinking of her girlfriend.
“Well, yeah, I don’t wanna have to stand on my tippy toes to kiss her.” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And I don’t want her to lean down a lot or anything. She’s actually wearing flats so we balance out. I thought that was, y’know, easy stuff to figure out.”
“Fuck… I’m gonna have to see my baby sister kiss someone? In front of other people?” whined Samatoki. He could play the role of “cool older brother” very well, but if there was one single big bro trait he’d never be able to shed, was the absolute grief and discomfort of having to see his darling little sister having public displays of affection. “Haaaah, the things I do for ya…”
“... I’m gonna have you out of the room for the garter toss.” she said, deadpan. “I have enough pity and self honor to do that.”
“The fuck’s a garter toss? Who’s wearing the garter?” asked Samatoki, scratching his head. He didn’t know a lot about weddings- he’d attended one wedding and it had been Ramuda and Jakurai’s a long time ago, and he didn’t remember anything about a garter toss. Maybe because it’d be kinda weird for them to be wearing a garter over their suits, or under them or whatever.
“She’s wearing the garter. You can, uh… Google what that is before the ceremony starts. No way I’m saying it out loud.” said his sister, crossing her arms. He raised an eyebrow as a red blush creeped onto her face, up to the tip of her ears.
She sat down on the chair again, making sure none of her makeup had been smeared or her hair dissadjusted after her little enthusiastic chat. Even though it was clear she was tense, Samatoki couldn’t recall seeing his sister so happy ever before: if he had to compare how happy he’d seen his sister, right now would be first place, second place announcing her proposal and showing off the ring, and third place when she first brought her girlfriend to introduce her to him. It was almost hard to picture that someone could bring so much happiness into her life- after all, it wasn’t as if he was a stranger to love, but… Well, he couldn’t say his experiences with love had harvested those kinds of joys. It scared him a little bit: love had brought him pains he couldn’t measure. Pains that, if his sister were to experience… He’d be completely unable to protect her.
“... I think it’s time we get going.” his sister’s voice made him snap out of his thoughts. “The car should be arriving soon, so we should start getting to the entrance of the salon to wait.”
He nodded, helping her walk out; she wasn’t having as much trouble with the heels as he’d expected, but it was still a task to maneuver around with her dress and veil. He was still scared- was security enough? Did he manage to calm her down enough? Was he actually any help, or did he just aggravate her before her wedding? Was this the start of a happy story for her?- but those feelings were drowned over. It was his little sister’s wedding- it was a day of celebration. Today, all the details would work out: it was going to be the wedding someone as gentle and caring as the youngest Aohitsugi deserved.