Chapter 41: The Last Use of a Name || Namae no saigo no shiyō

  Roppongi, Minato-ku → November 2nd, 2022

  “A name can be used to command, or it can be used to release.”

  Shunsuke tipped on his dashboard, dialing Ryuichi's number. After the second ring Ryuichi's voice filled the car. "Ryuichi, we need to move—now," Shunsuke said, his voice jagged and breathless. "Tsukasa was in my apartment. He was in the garage, watching us leave. He didn't follow, but he was grinning, Ryuichi."

  Miyu’s hand remained firm on his leg, her touch the only thing preventing him from driving the Lexus off the road in a panic.

  "He left something," Shunsuke continued, his voice dropping to a haunted whisper. "He put a photo of Miyu’s kidnapping on the kitchen counter. I have it in my pocket right now."

  There was a sharp, clinical silence on the other end of the line before Ryuichi’s voice cut through, stripped of all brotherly warmth and replaced by the cold, tactical precision of a lawyer.

  "Shunsuke, listen to me very carefully," Ryuichi said, his tone like a gavel. "You need to give that photo to the police immediately, or you need to burn it. Right now."

  Shunsuke flinched, the Lexus swerving slightly before he corrected it. "I... I didn't think about that. I just wanted to get it away from her..."

  "I know you weren't thinking, but use your head," Ryuichi pressed, his voice firm. "Possessing that kind of material is a crime in itself, Shunsuke. If you are stopped by the police or if the Gumi elders find that on you, you aren't the victim—you’re an accomplice. It incriminates you. It makes it look like you were part of the ring. Burn it before you reach the Nakashima gates."

  Shunsuke’s hand tightened on the wheel until the leather creaked. "I can’t burn it, Ryuichi... it’s the only proof we have of what he did. But if I give it to the police, what do I even say?" His voice was a thin wire, vibrating with the threat of a total breakdown.

  He heard Ryuichi let out a long, weary sigh. "Drive to the station. Hand it over and tell them exactly what happened today. I’ll be there as fast as I can to act as your legal counsel and confirm the timeline. But Shunsuke... understand the fallout. If the police open a formal investigation into the kidnapping now, they won’t just stop at Tsukasa. They’ll tear the Kawamura-gumi apart. If Father passes away while the precinct is crawling through our books..."

  "Then I’m the one left holding the ruins," Shunsuke finished, his voice hollow. "I become the face of a disgraced clan."

  Ryuichi went silent for a heartbeat, the kind of silence that precedes a life-altering confession. "I’ve been speaking with Satsuma-san. There is a third path. A way to save ourselves and Miyu, but the cost is absolute."

  Shunsuke took a jagged, deep breath, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. "What solution, Ryuichi?"

  "We both renounce our succession," Ryuichi said, his voice dropping into a flat, clinical tone—the sound of a man reading a death warrant. "We step down. We let the Elders appoint a puppet or a placeholder as Oyabun. And then we... we accept exile. Kandō. We leave the Gumi, we leave the name, and we never look back."

  "I’m bringing it to the police, Ryuichi," Shunsuke said, his voice regaining its rhythmic, "Prince-like" calm, though it was now backed by a new kind of steel. "We face this together. No more shadows, no more secrets. We’re going to get the lives we actually wanted."

  On the other end of the line, Ryuichi let out a dry, short chuckle—one of relief. "It’s a gamble, Shunsuke. We have time, but we have to move while the clock is still ticking. If we don’t finalize the renunciation before Father passes, the bureaucracy of the Gumi will trap us in the succession whether we want it or not."

  "I know," Shunsuke nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "We’ll be vulnerable. We’ll be 'nobody' in the eyes of the underworld. But we’ll be free."

  Miyu squeezed his hand again, her silent support speaking louder than any tactical briefing.

  "Ryu," Shunsuke continued, his voice softening. "You and Hina... you should come to the Nakashima estate tonight. Yuu-san has offered his protection to all of us. He’s making the compound a fortress for the family."

  "I’ll take him up on that," Ryuichi replied, the sound of papers rustling in the background. "I’ll bring Hina and Kuro over within the hour. Though, you might want to warn your father-in-law—your raccoon has already decimated the office grape supply and is currently chirping orders at the poor kyodai like they're his personal servants."

  A genuine, bright laugh broke from Shunsuke’s chest, the first real sound of joy since the morning began. "That’s typically Kuro. Already acting like he’s the Wakagashira."

  Ryuichi laughed too, a rare, relaxed sound. "Nah. Kuro isn't acting like the Wakagashira, Shunsuke. He’s acting like he’s the Oyabun himself."

  Ryuichi stood up, the clinical precision of his "Lawyer" persona softening as he looked at Hina. "We’re leaving," he said gently. "We’re going to the Nakashima-gumi estate. They’ve extended their protection to us as well."

  He approached her, pulling her into a protective embrace. Hina was trembling, the reality of the morning's violence finally sinking in. "I’m sorry, Hina," he murmured against her hair. "I never wanted you to be a target in this succession war."

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  Hina pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her gaze surprisingly steady. "I chose us, Ryuichi. I knew the risks. You were always transparent about your world while we were dating. I didn't walk into this blind."

  Ryuichi let out a soft, appreciative chuckle. "I suppose honesty was the only thing I could offer you that was guaranteed." He straightened his suit jacket and looked around the office, his brow furrowing. "Where is Kuro? He was just here eating grapes."

  Hina scanned the room, her eyes landing on the heavy mahogany door. "The door is slightly ajar. Maybe he slipped out... looking for a second course?"

  Ryuichi let out a long, weary sigh. "That animal is dangerously food-obsessed."

  He stepped out into the hallway, his sharp eyes scanning the carpeted corridor. A group of kyodai (younger brothers/soldiers) standing guard near the elevators instantly snapped to attention, their backs rigid. "Shateigashira Kawamura!" they announced in unison.

  Ryuichi waved a hand dismissively. "No need for the formalities right now. Have any of you seen the raccoon? Small, grey, looks like he owns the place?"

  One of the men nodded, a hint of a nervous smile playing on his lips. "I saw him about five minutes ago, Shateigashira. He was sitting right in front of the Oyabun’s office doors. He looked like he was waiting for an audience."

  Ryuichi felt a cold spike of dread hit his stomach. He took a deep, steadying breath. "That animal is actually suicidal," he muttered to himself.

  Ryuichi reached the massive double doors, his heart hammering against his ribs. To his shock, the door wasn't just unlocked; it was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the hallway. In all his years, he had never seen his father’s door left open. It was a lapse in security that screamed of the Oyabun’s declining health—or a deliberate invitation.

  He knocked softly, his voice tight. "Father. I am sorry for disturbing you, but..."

  The words died in his throat.

  Shohei Kawamura, was seated behind his monolithic desk. But he wasn't looking at ledgers or maps. He was looking at Kuro. The raccoon was sprawled across the desk's expensive blotter like a smug little yokai, his belly exposed to the ceiling. And Shohei was slowly, rhythmically patting Kuro’s fur.

  Kuro spotted Ryuichi and let out a sharp, triumphant chirp, his eyes gleaming with the unmistakable look of someone who had just successfully staged a coup.

  "I have heard many stories about Shunsuke’s pet," Shohei said. His voice lacked its usual razor-edged coldness; it sounded weary, perhaps even human. "But I never had the pleasure of a personal audience. This creature has an incredibly high opinion of itself."

  Ryuichi bowed deeply, trying to mask his utter bewilderment. "I am deeply sorry, Father. He slipped out of my office while I was preparing our departure. I didn't mean for him to intrude upon your privacy."

  "I imagine Taiki has already told you the truth," Shohei began, his hand still resting on Kuro’s fur. "I told him in confidence, but I knew he would go to you and Shunsuke. I wanted you to have time to prepare... for a smooth transition."

  He let out a dry, rattling chuckle that made Ryuichi’s chest tighten. The shock was so absolute that the lawyer, usually so quick with a rebuttal, found himself anchored to the floor in silence.

  "I am truly sorry for what happened to your biological father, Ryuichi," Shohei said, his gaze dropping to the raccoon’s bright eyes. "I never wanted my brother to die. I never wanted the blood of my own house on my hands."

  Kuro chirped softly, as if sensing the heavy grief in the room, and nudged Shohei's hand with his wet nose.

  "I don't ask for forgiveness," Shohei continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not from you, and certainly not from Shunsuke. I don’t deserve it. I have lived by the sword, and I will die by the shadows."

  With a slow, deliberate movement, Shohei reached into his desk and slid a thick stack of manila folders across the polished wood toward Ryuichi.

  "I know what you two are planning. I know you want out." Shohei’s eyes met Ryuichi’s with a clarity that was terrifying. "These are the official Kandō (disownment) papers. I have already signed them. They are backdated. The moment I draw my last breath, you and Shunsuke are legally and traditionally severed from the Kawamura name. You will be free men, with no claim to the throne—and no liability for my sins."

  Ryuichi stepped toward the massive desk, his fingers trembling as they grazed the edge of the folders. This wasn't just paper; it was the exit strategy he and Shunsuke had been prepared to fight for, handed to him as a gift.

  He lowered his head in a deep, traditional bow—the most sincere one he had ever given the man he called Father. "Thank you, Father…" his voice was strained, thick with a complex mixture of relief and a sudden, sharp grief for the relationship they never truly had.

  Shohei’s hand remained on Kuro, who had finally gone still, as if sensing the gravity of the confession. "Taiki told me everything about Tsukasa," Shohei continued, his gaze distant. "I had no idea he was the architect of that girl's suffering. Shunsuke’s restraint… he averted a bloodbath that would have buried us all."

  The Oyabun looked up, and for a moment, the fearsome leader was gone, replaced by a man looking back at a ruined life. "There is only one thing I ask of you both. Take care of Sachiko."

  Ryuichi straightened, watching his father’s face.

  "I was a miserable husband," Shohei murmured, his voice cracking. "I spent decades obsessed with a woman who rejected me—a ghost I could never catch. I ignored the woman who actually stood by my side. Don’t let her wither away in the shadows of this house once I’m gone. Take her with you."

  Ryuichi couldn't find the words. The legal mind that could argue any case was silenced by the raw honesty of a dying man. He simply nodded, a sharp, jerky movement that betrayed the storm of emotion behind his eyes.

  "You are just like him," Shohei said, his voice a ghost of its former strength. "Just like my older brother. When I adopted you, I told myself it was to honor him. But the truth was more selfish—I thought having you here would absolve the guilt I felt over his death. It never did. Blood doesn't wash out with more blood."

  Shohei’s hand finally moved away from Kuro, reaching instead for two heavy, cream-colored envelopes sitting on the corner of the desk. "But I am proud of you, Ryuichi. And of Shunsuke. You both became men I didn't think this life could produce."

  He pushed the envelopes toward Ryuichi. They were sealed with heavy wax, the Kawamura family crest stamped deep into the center. "I heard the Nakashima-gumi has taken you in. These are for Yuu Nakashima and his wife, Meilin."

  Ryuichi took the envelopes, his brow furrowing with a flash of irritation and confusion. Why would his father be sending messages to their greatest rivals now? "Father... what is this?"

  "The final payment on a debt that is twenty years overdue," Shohei murmured, his eyes drifting toward the window, looking at a sky he wouldn't see many more times. "Just deliver them. If you want a future with the Nakashima family, those letters are your dowry."