Chapter 8: Beneath the Cedar Scent || Sugi no ka ni tsutsumarete

  Nakashima Residence, Ichigaya-Shinjuku-ku → September 25, 2022

  "Not all wars are fought with guns. Some are fought with silence and staying."

  Miyu opened the gate to her family home—a traditional Japanese house tucked away in Ichigaya, hidden behind tall stone walls and thick hedges. From the outside, no one would expect a family like hers to live here. It looked like something preserved in time, untouched by the chaos of the city.

  As she stepped into the front garden, she could already hear Yuki’s voice drifting through the open air, bright and full of life. The rustle of leaves, the soft padding of feet on stepping stones, the splash of water near the koi pond—it all told her Yuki was in the main garden again, probably inventing a new story only she understood.

  Miyu slid the wooden door open and stepped inside, the familiar scent of tatami and incense wrapping around her like a worn blanket. She could already hear her parents’ voices from the kitchen.

  “I’m home,” she called softly into the hallway.

  The shoji door to the kitchen slid open with a whisper. Her mother, Meilin, appeared with her usual grace, her smile warm as she approached.

  “How was university?” she asked.

  Miyu smiled at her mother, her shoulders relaxing just a little.

  “Long,” she replied softly, “but manageable.”

  She set down her backpack near the wall, careful not to knock over the umbrella stand. The weight of textbooks and notes was finally off her shoulders—for now.

  “Where’s Yuki?” she asked, and her voice instantly softened. The quiet tiredness in her tone melted into warmth at the mention of her daughter.

  Meilin’s smile deepened, touched by something both proud and tender.

  “She’s in the garden,” she said gently. “With your father. They've been out there for a while.”

  Miyu nodded, grateful. “Thank you for taking care of her while I’m away.”

  Meilin stepped closer and wrapped her arms around her, the hug gentle but full of quiet strength. Miyu leaned into it, closing her eyes for just a second.

  “Of course,” Meilin whispered. “She’s family. And you’re not alone, Miyu—you never have to be.”

  Miyu bowed before her mother, a gesture filled with quiet gratitude. She was truly thankful for her parents’ support—especially when it came to Yuki. Her daughter was her sunshine, the warmth that made every long day bearable. Miyu cherished her more than words could ever express.

  But even in that moment of calm, guilt twisted in her chest.

  She was still hiding the truth.

  Her love for Shunsuke—the first man, besides her father or brother, she had ever let close. The only one who had made her feel truly safe… even if he was supposed to be her enemy.

  Her fingers curled slightly at her side.

  Shunsuke was different. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for anything. And yet she had given him everything, piece by piece—willingly.

  But she knew what would happen if someone found out. If her parents knew how far things had gone.

  How many kisses? How many nights? How many secrets?

  Her heart clenched.

  They would see it as betrayal. And betrayal came with a price.

  They would punish him. The deeper the affection, the harsher the sentence.

  And if they thought he had claimed her in truth—

  They wouldn’t hesitate.

  Not even to kill him.

  It would escalate into a war.

  Even if her parents chose not to harm Shunsuke directly, his family wouldn’t stand down quietly. The Kawamura-gumi was known for being confrontational—protective to the point of bloodshed.

  Running away wouldn’t help either.

  No one outran the yakuza.

  Not them. Not their kind.

  A single tear slipped down Miyu’s cheek before she could stop it.

  Shunsuke had already endured so much. Every scar, every haunted silence—proof of what life had taken from him.

  And now she was giving him more pain. Just by loving him.

  They needed each other. To heal. To breathe again.

  But was it truly worth it?

  Was their love strong enough to survive a world that would burn to erase it?

  Meilin noticed the tear. Her expression didn’t change. She said nothing.

  But in that stillness, Miyu knew—her mother had seen it.

  And she knew.

  Knew that her daughter was hiding something.

  Something that was tearing her apart from the inside out.

  Miyu stepped away, heading toward the garden, where she could already hear Yuki’s laughter echoing through the air. But as she passed her mother, Meilin gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

  A silent understanding passed between them.

  “Your father and I…” Meilin began softly, “We weren’t allowed to be together either.”

  She smiled faintly. “And yet—here we are.”

  Miyu stopped, surprised, turning to look at her mother. She had never heard this before. Not once.

  Meilin’s gaze was calm and warm but knowing.

  “Your father saw you leave the club with him. Days ago.”

  “You didn’t come home that night. You said you were studying with a friend.”

  Her voice held no accusation. Just quiet truth.

  Miyu lowered her eyes, shame tugging at her chest—but Meilin only squeezed her shoulder gently.

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  “Talk with your father,” she said. “Maybe… we can find a way. For both of you.”

  ???????

  Miyu stepped into the main garden, the late afternoon sun casting soft shadows across the stepping stones. Her father sat quietly on the stone bench, watching Yuki as she played near the koi pond, her laughter echoing like wind chimes in the air.

  The moment Yuki spotted her, her face lit up.

  “Mama~!” she called, running full speed toward her.

  Miyu knelt down just in time to catch her, wrapping her arms around the little girl with a softness that almost hurt.

  “My dear Yuki,” she whispered, holding her close. “I’m sorry I’m always away.”

  Yuki pulled back just enough to look at her, her round eyes bright and sincere.

  “It’s okay. You work hard for us both.”

  Miyu smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Yuki’s ear before gently letting her go. The little girl dashed back to her world of play, content.

  Straightening up, Miyu walked over to the bench and sat down beside her father. The silence stretched for a few moments—quiet, but full of everything unspoken.

  “Father… I… need to talk with you,” Miyu whispered, her voice barely above the rustling of the garden leaves. Her hands clenched the fabric of her skirt, twisting it tightly in her lap.

  “I’m in love…”

  She looked away, the heat of shame rising up her neck.

  Since childhood, she had been taught the weight of the Nakashima name—of duty, loyalty, bloodlines. Family first. Always.

  And now… she sat here, about to admit that she had given her heart to the one person she should never have touched.

  “…with Shunsuke Kawamura.”

  Her voice trembled as she said it.

  Her father didn’t move. His eyes remained fixed on Yuki as she knelt by the pond, tossing small pebbles and whispering to the koi.

  “I know,” he said at last, voice firm—but not angry. Not yet.

  “I saw you. The night he was at the Kissing Room. I watched you leave together.”

  Miyu’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Then you told your mother you were staying with a friend to study.”

  She swallowed hard. That lie still tasted bitter.

  “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That night, I was with him. But nothing happened. We just talked. That’s all.”

  For the first time during their conversation, Yuu turned to look at her.

  Miyu sat tense beside him, shoulders drawn in, her fingers still gripping her skirt. She was trembling slightly, the weight of everything pressing down on her. One word from him could end it all—could cut her heart in half.

  A single tear slid down her cheek.

  “You’re sure about him?” Yuu’s voice was low. Steady. Not judgmental—just serious.

  Miyu nodded slowly. “He’s the only man I’ve ever felt safe with… besides you and Shin.”

  She turned her eyes to the garden, watching Yuki crouch beside the pond, speaking softly to the koi as if they were her oldest friends.

  “I know what’s at stake. I know what he is to us,” Miyu said quietly. “But… I love him.”

  There was a long pause before Yuu spoke again.

  Then, gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “I can’t promise you the acceptance of the clan,” he said. “But as long as he doesn’t hurt you… I won’t interfere. Yet.”

  Miyu stared at him, stunned, more tears slipping down her face—this time from relief. She swallowed hard.

  “He knows about Yuki too,” she whispered.

  Yuu didn’t react immediately. He simply watched the child play, her joy so pure it seemed to quiet the world.

  “When he’s out of the hospital,” Yuu said finally, “bring him here. I want to see for myself how he treats you.”

  Miyu nodded, her voice catching. “I will… Thank you, Father.”

  ???????

  Later that evening, Miyu tucked Yuki into bed. She pulled the blanket up gently, smoothing it over her small frame before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

  “Mama,” Yuki whispered, her voice drowsy but curious. “Does he smell like cedar?”

  Miyu blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “You smell like cedar lately. Since a few days ago.”

  A soft smile touched Miyu’s lips. She brushed a hand over Yuki’s bangs.

  “He does,” she whispered. “You’ll meet him soon.”

  Yuki’s eyes lit up with sleepy excitement.

  “Then I’ll be even better behaved!”

  Miyu chuckled softly, stroking her hair.

  “Just be yourself, Yuki.”

  There was a pause, then another question—so small and quiet, but it pierced right through her heart.

  “Will he become my daddy?”

  Miyu hesitated, then smiled and nodded, her voice barely audible.

  “I hope he will, Yuki.”

  Miyu handed Yuki her little fox plushie and kissed her forehead once more.

  “Now sleep. Good night, Yuki.”

  Yuki nodded, clutching the soft toy to her chest.

  “Good night, Mama.”

  Miyu turned off the light and quietly stepped out of the room, sliding the door shut behind her.

  She walked down the hallway, the weight of the day pressing against her shoulders. She hadn’t found the time to visit Shunsuke today—and the guilt tugged at her.

  As she entered her own room, she sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled out her phone. Her lock screen lit up—a photo of Shunsuke asleep in his apartment, peaceful, vulnerable. She had taken it that night they shared together, when the world had felt far away.

  Her fingers hovered for a moment before typing.

  Hi Purin-kun,

  Sorry I couldn’t come today. Some family stuff happened.

  My father knows about us. He wants you to come over once you’re out of the hospital.

  Yuki is already eager to meet you.

  See you tomorrow.

  Your Mochi-chan

  ???????

  Shunsuke’s phone glowed on the nightstand, Miyu’s name flashing across the screen. He grabbed it, the movement pulling at his IV line. Kuro—who had been sprawled on his chest like a furry, entitled paperweight—let out a disgruntled chirp.

  “Sorry, boss,” Shunsuke muttered, scratching behind the raccoon’s ears as he read. His smile faded by the second.

  Across from him, Ryuichi snapped his law textbook shut. “That’s the third sigh in a minute. Either Miyu’s dumping you, or her dad found out.”

  “The second one.”

  “Oof.” Ryuichi leaned forward, grinning. “So? When’s the wedding?”

  Shunsuke shot him a look. “He didn’t send a save-the-date. He sent a come-get-your-judgment.”

  “Same thing in our world.” Ryuichi’s smirk softened, just barely. “Are you ready for that?”

  Shunsuke stared at Miyu’s message again. At the unspoken plea beneath the words. His thumb brushed the screen, right over the tiny heart she’d tucked beside her name.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I have to be.”

  He read her message again.

  Not just the words.

  But the silence between them.

  She trusted him enough to let him step into her world.

  Into her home.

  Into the space her father ruled like a warlord.

  And what if Yuu Nakashima decided he was unworthy?

  Then he’d still go.

  Still kneel.

  Still ask.

  Because Miyu deserved someone who would fight for her.

  Even if it meant walking into the lion’s den.

  As Shunsuke sets his phone down, Kuro shifts—curling closer, pressing his head against Shunsuke’s collarbone like he understands.

  “You think I should go?” Shunsuke murmured, voice low.

  Kuro chirped once. Firmly.

  Like he had already decided Miyu’s house was part of his territory too.