Page 7 of Yakuza Book Boyfriend

“Hey, wake up,” I say in a blank voice.

It takes a few seconds, but she finally opens her eyes. A huge grin instantly takes over her face and my heart fucking breaks.

She purrs, “hey, baby.”

But I can’t let that sink in, can’t let her words, her smile, the fucking sight of her reach me. I gotta get her out of here, away from this psycho. And finally fucking take care of him.

“Time to go home, babe,” I throw casually.

“W… what?” Her eyes widen, but the incredulity is quickly replaced with amusement. “Boy, stop playing. You exhausted my ass. I need to sleep.” With that, she snuggles back under the covers. This shit would be funny in any other circumstances.

“Nia, you need to go home,” I add firmly, pulling the covers off her body.

This time she yelps, sits up straight, eyes wide, hands covering her naked form. And I want to fucking die. Her eyes bounce around the room and she sees the other man standing with his back pressed to a wall, watching us with twisted curiosity.

“Ken, what the fuck-”

I interrupt her abruptly. “Get up, get dressed, go home.” Gathering her things, I throw them at her. “Or wherever the fuck, but get out of here. I have business to take care of.”

She stares at me for a couple of seconds, a single tear rolling down her face, then she wipes it furiously with the back of her hand.

“Fuck you, you sick liar!” she yells, before stomping out of my room, sending us both daggers on her way to the living room, where she proceeds to dress quickly before slamming the door behind herself, not sparing us even one last look. My fucking queen.

* * *

Now time to deal with this poor excuse for a human being. Because the sooner that’s done, the faster I get my world settled, the faster I can go to Nia and fucking pray she hears me out.

I slowly turn to Seita, letting the mask fall. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He flicks his hand. “I know you think you can keep some privacy.” He laughs mockingly. “But you forget your men are essentially my men.”

I grit my teeth, my fist closing tightly as my eyes scan the walls around us and my collection of blades. I always knew this was their purpose. Never consciously admitted it to myself, but even then I knew.

What’s funny is that people often assume I collect antiques. I would never take from any culture. Even uproot an object from its rightful home. I’ve traveled the world and I’ve had blades made for me wherever I went and studied. Swords, knives, machetes, daggers, sabers. I master them all, own them all.

My eye catches on the glinting metal of a spear. Iron and Baobab wood, from Mali. Perfect.

“And I thought you were getting dressed, nephew?”

I smirk. “No time for that, old man.”

In two steps, I close the distance between us and reach on the wall over his head. Not giving him the time of fucking day, I position the blade over his heart and push. And as he gurgles, struggles, and stares at me with stupid, wide eyes. As blood and life drift out of him. It’s as if my own chest was cracked open for all the anger, all the pain, all the fucking hurt of a little boy, the cold darkness of a grown man to seep out. As the light dies in his eyes, so does the deep, ugly thing that’s been feeding off of me for so long. Revenge is no longer my beating heart.

I stand there for a long fucking time. Watching my uncle die. His limp body, crumple to the floor like a disarticulated puppet. Eyes wide open in shock, blood oozing from his wound, his mouth, his nose. I stare. Letting the image fill me. Strengthen me. Till it fucking sinks in. He’s gone. The dark shadow that hung over my life for so long. The somber cloud that followed me fucking everywhere.

My eyes fall on my beautiful spear. It’s ruined. Maybe I can travel with Nia to Mopti and get a new one made… My lips quirk on one side of my mouth. Maybe. The thought of being with her freely, completely, without the constant danger of this fucking psycho looming over us. It fucking overwhelms me. I feel the sting of tears burn the backs of my eyes. I take a deep inhale, joining my bloodied hands as I close my eyes and bow.

“Go in peace now, Papa.”

Then I stride back to my room. Because that’s all the fucking reprieve I can afford. My uncle was a snake. He had solid allies. Bonds not built on friendship, trust and mutual respect. But fear, threats, and blackmail. I’ve secured all the healthy connections I could safeguard from his network. But the others, the ones made from the same cloth as Seita Watanabe? Thos need to be dealt with and swiftly. That’s the only way for me to secure some semblance of peace for my family -my mother, Nia, and myself.

I didn’t have a grand speech for Seita. He fucking knew what he did, knew I would come for him, eventually. And now The Katana is ready to finish the job.

Just give me a little while longer, sweet girl. I’m coming back for you.

Nine

Nia

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