Work Text:
Coral or Brown?
Yayoi absent-mindedly stares at her reflection in the mirror, as though she is holding out for an answer.
She is more of a nude lipstick kind of woman- has been for the past thirty years or so. She knows well how one presents themselves is important in the Yakuza world. The Tojo clan is no exception- presentation is paramount, substance secondary.
She opts for brown in the end. Not too dark a shade, just tinted enough to compliment her features and just austere enough to suit her new position within the organisation. Sitting at her vanity, she leans closer to the mirror and lines her lips with a steady hand.The off-the-shoulder gown she wears is a bold departure from the traditional kimonos she favours. She wears it like a disguise, or rather a costume. In the world of men, everything is performance, and she will be playing the role of a lifetime.
A soft knock interrupts her thoughts. "Come in" she calls.
The door opens, and through the mirror's reflection, she spots Kashiwagi. His neatly combed hair and perfectly tailored suit remind her of when she first met him, back when he was just another junior officer with a sharp sense of duty and something to prove. He offers her a small bow, in acknowledgment of her newfound status.
"Acting Chairman," he greets formally.
Yayoi raises an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at her lips as she picks up an earring. “No need for formalities, Kashiwagi”
"Neesan, then. I’m here to pick you up for the banquet." Kashiwagi announces, holding up his car keys.
“Oh?” Yayoi quips, sliding the second earring into place. “Are all our drivers on strike tonight?”
Kashiwagi chuckles softly. "No, but since this is your first banquet as Acting Chairman, I thought it would be fitting for me to escort you personally."
She pauses, her fingers lingering on her jewelry box as she considers the clan Captain in the mirror. Kashiwagi has been a constant presence in her life ever since she married into the Dojima family. Loyal, dependable and kind, he is just the kind of man she thought her husband to be when she was too young to know better.
"Well," she says, gesturing to the dress she is wearing "What do you think? Too modern?"
Kashiwagi’s gaze flickers over her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I haven’t seen you in a western-style dress since your wedding day," he says after a pause.
"And?"
"I think it suits you” Kashiwagi replies. “The younger members of the clan will see you as approachable, progressive even."
"And the old guard?" Yayoi asks, not bothering to hide her amusement.
He steps closer, crossing his arms. “Does it matter what they think? Or is that the point? You’re the leader now. Whether they approve or not, the rules are yours to make”
Yayoi chuckles. “Ever perceptive, Kashiwagi. But no; I saw the dress, I liked it.I bought it. I am not that complicated a creature”
“That’s what you’d have us believe at least” Kashiwagi teases her. His smile dims just slightly, giving way to a seriousness that settles on his features well. "Whatever happens, neesan, my flag stands before you. I’m on your side, always"
Yayoi feels something tug within her chest; a longing for something that never was. From the ornate jewellery box on her vanity, she pulls a necklace: a single black pearl suspended on a slender silver chain.
"Help me with this?" she asks, her tone casual.
Kashiwagi comes to stand behind her, taking the necklace with steady hands. "A good choice," he murmurs. "It was your husband’s gift, wasn’t it?"
"It was," Yayoi replies. "How did you know?"
He hesitates, a brief crack in his composed demeanor, before sighing lightly. "I ran a lot of errands in those days. I know because… I was the one tasked with finding a suitable gift for your birthday."
“Oh”, is all she can think to say.
She feels his knuckles brush her skin as he secures the clasp, a fleeting touch that sets the small hairs at the back of her neck standing on end. There were nights when she’d lie awake in bed, gazing at the cold sheets her husband would have occupied, had he not been busy entertaining himself in hostess bars and hotel rooms. In those long, quiet hours, it was Kashiwagi’s touch her mind conjured to stave off the ache. Firm, but gentle. Steady, like the man himself.
"Of all his gifts," she quietly confesses, "this was my favorite."
Kashiwagi steps back, his gaze momentarily faltering. He says nothing, and for a moment, silence stretches between them. Yayoi stands and moves to the full-length mirror by the door. The dress is still modest- a straight line, below-the-knee gown.
"Do you approve?" she asks, casting Kashiwagi a sideways glance.
"You know I do," he replies, without so much as a pause.
Yayoi bites back a smile, turning away to grab her jacket from the coat hanger. As she slips it on, she says: “We wouldn’t want to make my driver run red lights, now would we?”
Kashiwagi steps aside, gesturing for her to lead. But as she moves to the doorframe, something catches her eye-the Kazama family pin on his lapel, slightly skewed, its emblem tilted. She stops abruptly, causing him to almost bump into her.
Turning around to face him, she twists the pin back into place. Without thinking, her hands reach to adjust his lapel- a habit born from the long years she spent as a Patriarch’s dutiful wife. She hears him take a sharp inhale and when their eyes meet, all thoughts melt into nothing.Time drips slowly like honey and words dissolve into meaningless sounds.
Yayoi is a free woman now. If she wants to, she can rest her palm against his chest- or lace her fingers through his slicked-back hair, fisting it to pull him into a kiss she knows he won’t refuse. She can feel his body against her own, the warmth radiating from him. She can meet his lips, feel the wetness of his mouth, slide her hands over his shoulder blades and the solid muscles of his back. She can bury her face in the crook of his neck and take in the familiar scent of his aftershave, the one he still favours after all these years.
She can, but she won’t.
She doesn’t.
She is still Yayoi Dojima, Acting Chairman of the Tojo Clan, and Kashiwagi Osamu is her officer, her family, and her responsibility.
She smooths the pin into place with a gentle pat, stepping back. "Perfect," she says, her words empty like air.
Kashiwagi nods, his expression unreadable.
Without another word, she turns and strides down the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. His footsteps follow closely behind, a steady sound she knows like her own heartbeat.