4. Takashi
FOUR
Takashi
I find my father pacing through the Okuda gardens, his hands clasped behind his back, the weight of our family’s future pressing heavily on his shoulders. His movements are deliberate and controlled, yet I notice the slight stiffness in his gait. A reminder of the cancer he hides from the world.
“Father, do you have a minute?”
He stops and turns to face me, his expression unreadable. With a brief nod, he motions for me to walk beside him. For a moment, the only sounds are the crunch of gravel underfoot and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Finally, I speak. “What is your commitment to the Okudas?”
He exhales sharply as if the question itself exhausts him. “I knew this was coming. It’s clear their daughter is a spoiled brat, but she’s been trained to be an obedient spouse. With money, you will control her.”
I clench my jaw, willing myself to stay calm. “That’s not the problem,” I say evenly.
“Isn’t it?” He stops walking, turning to face me fully. “You will marry her, Takashi. I gave my word.”
“Did you?” I ask, my voice steady but firm. “Did you promise me? Or did you promise she would marry into the Nishimura family? Because it doesn’t have to be me—and it won’t be me.”
His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing in warning. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying give her to Akira.”
“Akira?” His voice sharpens, and for a moment, his stoicism cracks. “You think the Okudas will agree to this? That it’s even an option?”
“It’s within the terms of the agreement,” I counter. “Akira craves power, and he’ll thrive with her family’s wealth and influence. He’s the perfect match for Yua.”
“This is a stretch,” he says, his tone clipped.
“And yet not a breach of the agreement,” I reply firmly.
He stares at me, scrutinizing my every word, my every movement. For a moment, I see the faint shadow of disappointment flicker in his eyes, and it stings more than I expected.
Finally, he speaks again, his voice low and cutting. “Who is she?”
“What?”
“The girl who’s made you lose all respect for your father. Who is she?”
I straighten, meeting his gaze head-on. “I haven’t lost respect for you. I still respect you, Father. But I met her—my ikigai .”
For a moment, he doesn’t react. Then he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “This is a fairy tale. Ikigai doesn’t exist.”
“Yes, it does,” I insist, my voice firmer now. “She’s real. And there is no other choice for me.”
His eyes narrow, disbelief etched in every line of his face. “You’re willing to risk everything—our alliances, our family’s standing—for some girl?”
“Yes.” My answer is immediate. “Because for the first time, I know what I want. What I need.”
He turns away, looking out at the garden. His shoulders sag slightly, and for a brief moment, I see the man beneath the title—the weight of his illness and years of sacrifice written in the lines of his face.
“You think this will make you happy?” he asks quietly, not looking at me. “Happiness is fleeting, Takashi. Duty is what remains.”
I hesitate, my throat tightening. “Maybe. But isn’t it worth trying? Don’t I deserve to choose my own path—just once?”
Finally, he speaks, his voice quiet but firm. “If Akira agrees—and if the Okudas accept—then we will discuss it. But Takashi…” He turns, his eyes hard now. “You’d better be sure. If this falls apart, it’s on your head.”
“Fine. I’ll accept the consequences.”
He glances at me from the corner of his eye, studying me. “Would I approve of her?”
The question surprises me, and for a brief moment, I hesitate. No, you wouldn’t. Not because of who she is but because of what she represents—defiance against tradition, I admit inwardly. But before I can respond, his expression shifts, as if he already knows.
“It’s the hāfu , isn’t it?” His voice is calm, but the weight of the accusation lands squarely between us.
I stumble, caught off guard by his certainty. But the offense hits me harder. “Her name is Ena!” I snap, the words bursting out before I can stop them.
His eyebrow arches sharply, and he regards me with a mix of surprise and something else—approval? “Not sure how I feel about you raising your voice at me,” he says, his tone edged with warning, “but I like seeing the leader you’re becoming.”
“Well,” I say, straightening my spine, “what I’m about to say, you’ll like even less. Because no matter what Akira or the Okudas decide, it will be her. No one else.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond, turning instead toward the house. He walks a few steps before pausing, glancing over his shoulder. “And she’s happy with that? Marrying you?”
The question lands like a blow, and I hesitate again. “Not quite,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “She… is not a fan.”
His laugh is unexpected, light but genuine. “Ah, well, that I’ll enjoy watching,” he says, shaking his head as he starts walking again.
His laugh fades, and for a moment, there’s a silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then he glances at me, his eyes narrowing. “What do you plan to do about that?”
I hesitate, the question pressing against my chest. “That’s why I came to you,” I say finally. “I need your help.”
He raises an eyebrow, a glimmer of surprise breaking through his usual stoicism. “You’re asking for my help to fix this mess?”
“Yes,” I reply, swallowing my pride. “She doesn’t trust me. Her family doesn’t trust us. And after everything we’ve taken from her, can you blame them?”
His gaze sharpens. “So you want me to smooth things over with her father?”
I nod. “He respects your authority. He was born yakuza—he understands the power that comes with your word. If you vouch for me, if you can fix things for her family, it could make all the difference.”
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “And what do you expect me to say? That my son, the heir to the Nishimura empire, is chasing after a woman who doesn’t even want him?”
“She will,” I say firmly, though my voice softens. “She just needs to see that I’m different. That I’m not like the rest of them.”
His lips press into a thin line, and he cuts me off with a sharp look. “Not them, Takashi. Us. It’s not them—it’s us. You are yakuza. Don’t forget that.”
The words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, the enormity of what I’m asking feels insurmountable. But then his expression shifts—just slightly—and I catch a glimpse of something I don’t often see: understanding.
He exhales a slow, resigned breath. “Fine. I’ll speak with her father. But Takashi…” He steps closer, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that roots me in place. “If I do this, you cannot fail. Do you understand me? There will be no turning back.”
“I won’t fail,” I say, my voice steady despite the heaviness pressing down on my chest. “I’ll prove it to her—and to you.”
He studies me for another long moment before nodding, though his jaw remains tight. “We’ll see. Now send me your brother. I have a feeling he’ll be far more agreeable.”