Chapter Text
The train rattled steadily across the country. Inside a quiet car, Nene Yashiro sat alone. Her fists- creamy skin marred with bruises and small cuts- clenched her designer skirt. It was a gift from him, exactly the kind of thing she always imagined herself wearing once she moved to the big city. But now, she sighed and looked past the reflection of her red-rimmed eyes as urban neighborhoods slowly blended to open fields with hay bails. That’s how she knew she was almost home.
Home.
Her old home where she came from, not the new home she made for herself in the place she was leaving behind. Would they be expecting her? She had called her house, balling in a phone booth, to her mother over their last fight. This happened after every heated argument, Nene needing to hear her mother’s voice. But Nene thinks her mother would be able to tell this time was different. This time Nene had escaped with a hastily stuffed suitcase, ran two blocks away, and only spoke in trembling hushed words. Her mother calmed her down, reminded her of all the wonderful characteristics her boyfriend had, and said they would make up. But even that sounded hopeful at best. Besides, while all the things her mother parroted to her were true, her mother didn’t know the whole story. Didn’t know why Nene was so terrified to leave him without his knowledge, his permission, even though he never once laid a hand on her. No, this time Nene left in the middle of the night, while her love was out, and snuck away without a soul seeing.
The train rattled to a stop as passengers moved on and off the train. Nene leaned away from the window, trying to hide her tear-streaked face from view as she sighed. The conductor shouted from outside that this would be the last stop for another several hours and the next town wouldn’t be until sunset. That was good. The farther away she was from the city the better. Not that it mattered, though. There was nowhere else she could go. She considered going on the run but she simply couldn’t bring herself to. If there was one thing she knew about him is that he had eyes everywhere; and she wasn’t the type of person who could live a life constantly looking over her shoulder. Besides, despite all the atrocities he’s done she’d always believed he deserved better. Despite everything, she still loved him.
So, Nene would wait. He would know where to find her and since he only left the city to address threats to his business or his name, he would surely come after her. Besides, knowing him, he would want to ask personally why she had the audacity to run away. Nene would face him, honestly like he deserved, and remind him of all they had been arguing about these past couple months. As the sun set, Nene tried to imagine the face he would make. The heartbreak in his eyes, the pain in his snarl as he glared at her from down the barrel of his gun. Or would he make one of his goons shoot her instead? Who would it be? Would they want to or would they try to talk him out of it? Would he beg or plead? Or blame and accuse? Knowing her beloved, he would probably just give her a simple ‘why?’ But she wouldn’t need to answer him. Just staring at him would be all the communication he would need. The train halted slowly at her stop. Nene got up robotically, taking down her suitcase and walking off, the images of her mind fading away. She would spend her final days among people she loved and who truly loved her back for her.
It was Nene’s own fault, agreeing to marry into the mafia. Hopefully it would be the last mistake she ever made.
“Kou?” Nene breathed. The train hissed behind her as she stepped off the track. The tiny one-room station was empty save for the blonde cowboy that stood waiting for her. Kou Minamoto, a dear childhood friend of hers, was looking at her like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Not in a good way. In the way that said he could tell she thought she was going to die. Whether or not he understood how true that really was, Nene couldn’t tell.
“Hi Kou,” Nene greeted quietly. That was enough to pull Kou out of his shock as he ran forward and enveloped her in a hug. The force made her flinch, shocking her out of her melancholy. That was enough. The warmth of the hold of man, the fear that she had been blocking out, it was too much.
“Nene I’m so sorry, I didn’t know- I don’t know,” Kou squeezed her tighter, “I’m sorry.” He held her as she cried, letting her tears soak his blue plaid. The train pulled away, leaving the two in the dust of a small farming town.
“Your moms waitin’ up for you,” Kou pulled away, looking at her with pity in his blue eyes, “come on, I’ll take you home.” He squeezed her shoulders gently. Through her sobbing, Nene just nodded. She followed him to the old pickup truck his brother used to drive, the familiarity of the rusted paint and worn seats filling Nene with calm. Soon they were heading down a dirt road, Nene with her head back on the window while Kou kept sending worried glances her way.
“So, um, do you want to talk about it?”
“...”
“Your ma’s gonna ask you know? It’ll be best to talk about it. Make you feel better,” Kou tried. He was so sweet, Nene missed that. People in the city were so dull on the inside, like she was now.
“No. I don’t want to talk about it tonight,” Nene said. In the tight space of the car, Kou let out a long sigh through his nose, hands gripping the steering wheel.
“Okay,” he answered slowly. Nene felt worse but passing by their old school made her feel better.
“Tell me about you,” Nene asked. Kou’s eyes flickered to her and he swallowed.
“O-okay,” he cleared his throat, “well you’ve been gettin my letters that Teru is back in town from his rodeo tour and that he’s already become sheriff since dad was waiting for him to come back before he retired,” Kou continued. Meanwhile, Nene’s happiness grew and she absentmindedly rubbed her empty ring finger. It was a habit she developed since the diamond he gave her made her the happiest she’d ever been. He must have found it by now, Nene would like to think. Left on her nightstand while everything else was taken. They had argued all day yesterday, their shouting holding up his mission. He made a promise to come home earlier than usual- just to get her to stop yelling- but who knew if this was one of the times he was actually able to keep it. No matter how angry she was, she worried if he was hurt somewhere. That’s usually what being late meant. Well, it wasn’t her problem any more.
Her home was so familiar when they pulled up, yet so, so forgien. Of course she’s come to visit in the four years she’s been away. But never with the finality of staying. She always strutted in as a busy, city woman, the pride and joy of her family, the one who made it. Even so, Nene spent most of her time here babbling about her life in the city, and increasingly more and more about her ex-fiance. Not that he ever came to visit. Nene almost smiled as she slid out the truck and slammed the door, loud creaks following every action, and landed in soft dirt. All the things her ex-fiance would have recoiled at. Even if he did leave the city, he’d never want to come here, even though this was her home.
“I’ll see you later,” Nene hugged Kou, “thanks for the ride.”
“Tomorrow,” he squeezed her, “tomorrow morning after field work I’m pickin’ you up for breakfast. Alright?” He stared at her hard, with determined concern, and Nene smiled just barely.
“Okay. Bring your siblings too, alright?” Nene let her drawl seep into her tone, something she tried so hard to change when she left. Kou smiled so big Nene could cry.
“Sure thing! Tiara would love to see you again! She’s gotten so big!” Kou chirped. She nodded, hugged her friend goodbye, and walked up her front porch. Her mother was already opening the front door, eying her with pity from beyond the screen door. They said nothing, Nene just brought her bag back to her room, her mom behind her rubbing her shoulders. Her father was most likely already asleep, running a vegetable farm was an early morning job. Nene would talk to them in the morning.
Her room was just how she left it. Practically the exact opposite of where she came from. A spotted bed set instead of wine satin sheets, several handmade quilts from all generations in place of a thick comforter. All the furtinte was mismatched, most of them hand made, full of nicks and childish stickers. Her walls were covered in posters of horses and celebrities. Things that she loved and were undoubtedly her. Just her. With a sigh, Nene fell onto her bed. Her love would have had a field day in here; he loved to tease her about everything and anything. At first it was cute but his continuous nitpicking of these things is what led to more serious arguments, which only escalated.
They were too different, Nene realized. Not just in their home-grown upbringings, but in their morals. It didn’t matter that they still deeply loved each other, or that most of their arguments lead to passionate nights. She simply wasn’t happy there anymore, too scared all the time of what he was doing while he was gone and too furious when he returned. Of course, if he ever did come here, he would look so out of place. Going around poking at everything and anything he could get his hands on, trying to remain poised while itching with a childish urge to toy with her things. Despite his nonchalance and teasing, he would remember everything. He would remember all the types of horses she had plastic figures of, their names, and which were her favorites and why. He would say it like a fact at the most random times, surprising her, then teasing her red face.
Tears leaked down her nose again and Nene turned to bury her head in the lone pillow. She missed him. But she would live her last day as happily as she could without him.
---
Around him the car drove silently and smoothly. The city streaked by as it always did, towering buildings of cold steel as fake rainbows danced off the windows. The streets were bustling, people walking back and forth, in and out of designer stores, bobbing and weaving around cars. Amane Yugi started past his blank reflection, dull golden eyes flickering at the pedestrians. They were once just people, nuisances at best, but recently they started being individuals. Individuals with a story and a part in this city. He zeroed in on the couples, both happy and sad. He frowned. In an effort not to hit said bustling people, the driver of the car stopped short with a curse. The action caused the stitches to yank at raw flesh and a pinstripe suit jacket to slip off a bloodied white shirt.
“Are you alright, sir?” The driver asked.
“Yeah.” Was all the answer he got. Keeping his arm out, the Godfather wondered what others saw when they looked at him and his fiance. Recently things haven’t been so great and while he wanted to say it wasn’t his fault, deep down he knew it was. They could be out there right now, like they used to, taking on the town with their arms woven together. But recent events and his recent decisions have brought that to a grinding halt. With a sigh, Amane tore his eyes away from the bright happiness and looked to his left. His arm held out, the man worked on sewing up his wound with clear irritation. A bullet had grazed him. That wasn’t a new thing but it was something she always fretted over. He loved it when she did that, running towards him with fear written across her features while she forced him to sit and get treated, kissing his cheek with all the love in the world. Trying to calm him down even though she was the one pancing.
He looked forward to it. Who wouldn’t? It wasn’t like he wanted to get hurt but what used to be a stain on his pride was now an opportunity for more attention from her. He remembered when he would sulk at being shot at, come home with a storm cloud over his head and refuse to get treatment until hours later, when things fully settled down. Those days were long over. Unfortunately, now in their place, Amane had a first aid kit in the car in a flimsy attempt to hide his injuries from her. He had gotten far more of them lately. More than she was comfortable with. And all due to his own insistence.
“Can’t you wait to do this at home?” Akane growled, digging the needle in the Godfather’s arm. Amane hissed, grinding his teeth, and did nothing more.
“I don’t want to hear it tonight,” he glared out the window. It was true, they left on a bad note and as much as Amane wanted to take her out for a night on the town, he knew he would pass out soon. She would be furious with him and he wouldn’t have it in him to try and convince her of his choices. They would fall asleep painfully, with their backs turned to each other, unless he took the couch.
“That’s no way to talk about your fiance,” the driver spoke through the mirror, “Don Hanako.”
“It’s true,” Hanako stated. He felt guilty about it and he was sure the car felt it too, but he glared at Tsuchigomori nonetheless.
“Yeah, let's see you tell Miss Yashiro that.” Akane scoffed, finishing with the stitches. Hanako grimaced, wanting to go back to the days when he could run into her warm open arms and let her sooth all the pain away.
“She knows the risks. I don’t know why now is any different,” Amane grumbled.
“Because this isn’t really your run-of-the-mill mafia scuffles,” Akana scoffed, “Godfathers don’t really find out that their twin brother, who they thought was dead, is actually still alive and building a rival gang across town.” The bandages were tied and Akane shut the first aid kit with a sigh. Hanako let his arm drop and he picked up his jacket, Nene probably wouldn’t be mending it this time around.
“He’s up to something. I always knew that death was suspicious, Tsukasa wasn’t the type to go out like that,” the Godfather growled.
“Still, I wouldn’t call him a rival gang. If anything, he seemed really supportive of you and the family.” Tsuchigomori drawled, treading on thin ice. He was lucky he helped raise the boys, otherwise he might have been punished for his insult.
“You think I’m wrong?” Hanako challenged.
“I think we’re expending a lot of resources on a group of rag-tag criminals who haven’t done any damage to any of our business.” Akane tacked on. He ignored Hanako’s glare.
“He’s planning something! You saw tonight! He’s rallying more support and weaponry!” Amane exclaimed, pointing out the window.
“You keep saying that yet we’ve had no proof. Just attacking groups of well-armed people!” Akane huffed with an empty smile, “honestly you sound like a lunatic. No wonder she’s fed up with you.” That did it. Akane didn’t help raise the Godfather so he was grabbed by Amane and met the full force of his snarl with a blank face.
“You’re the lunatic if you think Tsukasa is just doing that for fun! And you keep my relationship out of your mouth, do you understand?”
“Yes, Don Hanako,” Akane held out his vowels, looking him up and down in a way that clearly said he thought the Godfather was insane. With a tsk, Amane let him go and sat back in his seat, arms crossed.
“We’re not saying you're wrong, we’re just saying this is a lot of energy over something that was never a problem.” Tsuchigomori shrugged, pulling under their apartment building.
“The idea is to stop it before it becomes one,” Hanako snarled.
“But if there ever is a problem, which it’s increasingly looking like there’s not, we are more than able to handle it when the time arrives.” The driver spoke in that tone, that fatherly tone, the one that got Hanako to pout and say nothing. They stepped out of the car, Akane and Tsuchigomori glancing around with automatics in hand while Amane just walked to the door with hands in his pockets. Maybe they were right. Despite the whole being dead for a decade thing his brother hadn’t really done anything wrong. It was clear from their recent encounters he didn’t want revenge or to take Amane’s spot as Godfather- in fact he never really wanted it but Hanako was still suspicious- and maybe he was just being paranoid. Still, it didn’t sit right with him to just let it go. It wasn’t that Hanako couldn’t admit he was wrong, but saying Tsukasa wasn’t a threat felt like a grave error.
“Maybe you need a vacation,” Tsuchigomori offered softly, “take her to Europe or something. Get yourself back on track. Have a little fun.” He put a hand on Amane’s shoulder heavily. The man almost had him. It sounded wonderful, to run from the problems and responsibilities Amane had been saddled with far too young. But he was too dark and twisted, too tainted. He could never leave this life, never fully enjoy himself or stay too far away. Nene deserved better than a man who hadn’t slept in days and obsessed over imaginary problems. Shrugging off Tsuchigomori’s hand, Hanako walked down the hall to his bedroom, shoulders hunched with his hands in his pockets. Hopefully he could play on his love’s kind heart and fall asleep in her warm embrace.
Behind him, Tsuchigomori sighed and scrubbed his head. Personally, he was relieved his brother’s children were both still alive. He knew asking for the young Godfather’s happiness was too much. They both knew Amane could never fully achieve such a life. But even for a prodigy Godfather like Amane, Tsuchigomori still held out some hope that he would be able to enjoy some of life’s pleasures. Though he would never show it- it wasn’t his place- Tsuchigomori was genuinely happy when the Don came home all bothered four years ago. Red faced, jolting body movements, wistful sighs while staring off into nothing during meetings. It didn’t take long for Tsuchigomori to notice the direction he stared in was the direction of the new hostess.
Hanako may be a terrifying mafia boss, but Amane needed serious convincing to propose to Miss Nene Yashrio. And boy Tsuchigomori couldn’t blame him. The woman was absolutely full of life, bursting with fury and energy with kindness to spare. She was strong, sturdy, everything he needed. That’s why when Tsuchigomori walked into the kitchen to see a nervous Akane and a dull Yako, sewing the Don’s coat, he felt a sense of dread.
“She left,” Yako said. Under the table, Akane’s leg bounced as he kept his face in his hands.
“Left?” Tsuchigomori repeated in a breath, “she wouldn’t.” He fully believed that. Maybe in the beginning he feared she would run away, or have a breakdown at the first sight of blood, but she didn’t. She faced everything without fear, even what Hanako could not.
“Most of her things are gone. She packed a single bag, left her ring and everything.” she answered. Yako contented her stitching, dainty hands working diligently from her white dress and fur cuffs. Shakily, Tsuchigomori dragged a hand down his face and leaned on the table. He knew Nene didn’t leave due to fear for herself. No, she left because she feared for her fiance. Because she loved him and she couldn’t bear to watch him destroy himself. Tsuchigomori felt the same, except he was just as trapped in this life as Amane.
“Did your wife know?” Tsuchigomori asked Akane. The man glanced at him at the mention of Aoi, then looked back to his spot on the table.
“I don’t know. If she did, she never let it show,” he scowled, “she must have known the consequences! Not that I’ll let the bastard even try.” Akane growled, his leg moving faster. Tsuchigomori sighed again.
“Good. Keep it that way, you didn’t know.”
“I’m not worried about me,” Akane shot back. But Tsuchigomori was already at the landline, dialing the railroad station. Once the time and tickets were reserved, the phone was hung up with a heavy sigh. There was a moment of silence before a massive crash shook the apartment. Heart heavy, a frown tugged at Tsuchigomori as the sound of hurled furniture shattering echoed down the hall. It went on for a couple more moments, overshadowing the howls of cursing from a heartbroken man. Eventually there was a long pause, to which Tsuchigomori took a seat at the table. Down the hall, a door was kicked violently off its hinges.
“Where is she?” Amane roared. His hollar was a war cry that cracked across the floor like a whip, ice spreading in the floor’s veins. They waited with held breath as the Godfather stomped down the hall and appeared in the doorway like a murderous spirit.
“Where is my fiance?” Hanako asked, eyes glowing with fury like melted gold.
“She left.” Yako repeated before Tsuchigomori could soften the blow. The room held its breath as Hanako walked towards her with controlled steps, placing a hand slowly on the table in front of her.
“And why didn’t you stop her?” Every two words were followed with a pause as Hanako tried to control his seething. The hand atop his jacket, stopping her from sewing, was shaking.
“She’s not a prisoner here.” Yako answered, looking the Don in the eye.
“You know damn well that’s not why I-” Hanako stopped himself, looking away for a moment as if to hold back pain, “it’s for her protection. You were supposed to watch her. Protect her.”
“She doesn’t belong to you. You can’t tell her what to do just because you decide to start a war.” Yako shot back, glare sharp. The woman had a soft spot for Nene, one of the few. Tsuchigomori knew if she felt Nene was in any danger she would have stopped her and he knew Hanako knew that too. The Godfather’s shoulders shook, head bowed. It was then Tsuchigomori noticed Amane’s other hand was still clenched behind his back, holding something, and his heart broke for him.
“Did you know about this? Did Aoi?” Hanako turned his accusation on Akane.
“No.” Akane answered. Hanako snapped straight up, eyebrows knitted, and opened his mouth to rage. Tsuchigomori stood between them before Akane could return the challenge.
“There’s a train that leaves in two hours, I already got us tickets,” Tsuchigomori informed with one hand up. Hanako looked between the palm and his uncle, mouth opening and shutting as he short-circuited.
“Her hometown,” Hanako breathed, shoulders drooping.
“That’s pretty far from the city,” Yako stated, “you’ll be away from the family for a while if you go.” The choice was clearly there. If he wanted his fiance back he would have to leave his work as a Don in order to chase her. The irony didn’t escape him.
“It’ll be okay,” Tsuchigomori said. When he went to put a hand on Amane’s shoulder, the man already turned away.
“Akane, call your wife. You’re both going.”
“Fine.” Akane replied without a snide remark. Soon they were on the train in the dead of night, Akane and Aoi already asleep in their own room.
“You should get some rest. You don’t want to scare her.” Tsuchigomori offered. Amane said nothing, just laid down slowly and put his fedora over his face. When Tsuchigomori searched the shattered furniture of Amane’s room, the pistol he kept in the nightstand was missing. Tsuchigomori knew it was the bulge in the Don’s coat. By the time Tsuchigomori slid the door closed, taking out a cigarette for the smoke car, he heard a soft sob. Don Hanako clenched a lone diamond ring at the end of a necklace tied around his neck as tears ran down his face.