Part I - Passenger

I.

No one stopped. He was a shape in a doorway, too broad-shouldered and too well-dressed to be homeless, too disheveled to be anything but trouble. Occasional glances were quickly averted.

The rain had stopped an hour ago, but Koichi was still wet. His suit clung to him in dark patches and somewhere between the third and fourth bottle of sake he had lost track of which alley he'd stumbled through to end up here. The pavement was cold beneath him, gritty with cigarette butts.

He watched shoes pass. A group of salarymen gave him a wide berth, their laughter dying as they noticed the cut of his jacket and the glint of his rings in the dim streetlight.

The nausea came in waves. He pressed his forehead against his knees and waited for it to pass.

"Excuse me."

The voice was young. He didn't look up.

"Are you alright?"

Koichi lifted his head slowly. The motion made the street tilt. A woman crouched in front of him, just out of reach, holding a plastic water bottle. She wore an apron over jeans, her hair pulled back in a careless ponytail. Maybe around twenty. Her face was open in a way that made him want to tell her to go away.

"I work across the street," she said, gesturing vaguely behind her. "I saw you from the window."

Their fingers didn't touch, as he took the water bottle.

"Thank you."

She smiled, brief and uncertain, then stood. He watched her cross the street and disappear into a small shop with condensation fogging its windows. When he looked down at the bottle in his hands, it was already open.

Five days later, Koichi sat in his car outside the shop and smoked three cigarettes before getting out. The sign read "Quick Bite" in English and something in Japanese he couldn't make out through the grime. Inside, the air smelled of frying oil and old coffee. There were four tables, all empty, and a counter with a register that looked older than the girl standing behind it.

Her eyes lit up with recognition.

"Oh! You're okay!"

Nodding he approached the counter, pulling his wallet from his jacket. "I wanted to thank you properly."

"You didn't have to." She was already smiling, leaning forward with her elbows on the counter. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

"Good. That's good." A pause. "Are you here to eat?"

He stood out in the small diner. Pressed suit, silver rings, slicked-back hair that caught the light when he moved. The smell of smoke clung to him. His face was severe, attractive in a way that didn't feel entirely Japanese. The first lines of age had marked his forehead and told of a habit of furling his brows.

He said nothing, eyes on the menu. Then, quietly, "What's good?”

She laughed, high and startling. "Honestly? Nothing. It's all pretty bad." Gesturing around the dingy space she added. "I just work here because I can pick my shifts. I'm a student."

"What are you studying?"

"Literature. Not very practical, I know." She added quickly, with an apologetic shrug. "What about you? What do you do?"

Koichi placed a ten-thousand yen note on the counter. "The ramen. And keep the change."

Her smile faltered as she looked at the bill, then at him. But she took the money and made change anyway, counting it out slowly.

"You don't have to tip that much."

"I want to."

She held his gaze briefly, then nodded and turned to prepare his food. Sitting at the table by the window he watched her move through the small kitchen, efficient and unbothered. When she brought him the bowl, she set it down carefully and lingered.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Koichi."

"I'm Hinano." Another smile, softer this time. "It's nice to meet you."

The ramen was as bad as she'd promised, he still ate it slowly, took his time. Hinano didn't ask him anything else, just returned to the counter and pulled out a textbook, highlighting passages with a yellow marker. Twice, he caught her glancing up at him. Twice, she looked away first.

When he finished, she was reading with her chin in her hand, completely absorbed. He stood and she looked up, startled, as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"Thank you for the meal."

"Come back anytime!"

Outside, he sat in his car, hands on the wheel, and watched through the window. She'd returned to her book, the yellow marker moving across the page. She looked young in the fluorescent light. Far away from anything he had a right to be near.

He started the engine and drove three blocks before circling back. When she locked up two hours later, he was parked across the street with the headlights off. She walked toward a residential neighborhood, her bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in. Convenience stores and small restaurants gave way to narrow balconies. Bicycles were chained to the railings. His black sedan followed at a distance until they arrived at a building with peeling paint and a dented mailbox. After she went in a light came on in the second floor. A lonely, yellow square in the dark.

II.

Koichi came back on Tuesday. Then Thursday and three times the following week.

Sat at the table by the window, he always ordered the same thing and left too much money. Hinano stopped protesting after the second time, just smiled and pocketed the bills. Her fingers quick and unbothered.

"You're going to put me through school at this rate," she said once, wiping down his table.

He didn't answer, just stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray she'd started leaving for him.

Once, she asked him what he did for work. He looked at her for a long moment.

"Business," he said finally.

Her smile was knowing. "What kind of business?"

"The kind that keeps odd hours."

“Just like diner work.” She sighed.
“I failed one of my classes. The professor said I don’t take things seriously.”

Koichi nodded once, expression unreadable. “Do you?”

With a shrug she said “Sometimes I think I’m just pretending.”

“What would you do if you weren't?”

Hinano looked surprised at the question, but slowly a somber smile spread on her face “Buy a motorbike and start to smoke of course.” Getting up she took his empty bowl with her.

As he paid later that evening he tipped her again and said “for your motorbike” earning him a tight smile, that Koichi missed the ease in.

That night, he followed her home again. It had become part of the routine, something he did without deciding to do it. He told himself it was habit. That her neighborhood was on his way. That it cost him nothing to see her safely indoors, and her light turned on.

III.

Three weeks after his first visit, Koichi was on his fourth cigarette when the door chimed and a group of young men stumbled in. Six of them, loud with alcohol and the careless confidence of people who had never been told no. He had seen them before. Designer sneakers and expensive watches, the kind of boys who thought the world bent around them. They all started like that.

Hinano looked up from her textbook. Her smile was professional, empty.

"Welcome. Sit anywhere."

They took the largest table, scraping chairs across the floor. One of them called out for beer before he'd even sat down, while another knocked over a menu and left it there. Koichi turned slightly in his seat, just enough to see them in his peripheral vision. The bottles were brought out by Hinano with efficient but careful movements, like someone navigating around broken glass.

"This place is a dump," one of them said, loud enough for her to hear.

Hinano said nothing. Returned to the counter and wiped down surfaces that were already clean.

The boys got louder. One of them kept trying to catch her attention, snapping his fingers when she walked past. Another made a comment about her, something crude that Koichi didn't quite hear but understood from the way she stiffened.

He watched his scarred knuckles flex, but kept only watching.

"Hey, sweetheart. Another round."

As Hinano brought the bottles out the boy who'd spoken grabbed her wrist as she set his down.

"You're cute when you're quiet. What time do you get off?"

"Let go, please."

"Come on, don't be like that."

Koichi stood. He'd been sitting with his back to them, but now he turned fully, taking his time. The motion was deliberate, unhurried. He straightened his jacket and crossed the small space between them.

The boy holding Hinano's wrist saw him first. His smile died. He released her immediately and his hand dropped to his lap. One by one, the others noticed and fell silent. Six pairs of eyes tracked Koichi as he stopped at the head of their table.

He looked at each of them in turn, his face empty of expression.

"Is this how you behave in public?" His voice was quiet, nearly conversational. "I'm trying to sit here in peace. If you want to get drunk, go somewhere else."

No one spoke. The boy who'd grabbed Hinano had gone pale. So they had seen him before as well.

Koichi turned away, then paused. "Now give a big tip and get lost."

They rose quickly. Bills hit the table, chairs scraped back. They were gone in under a minute, leaving their half-empty bottles sweating on the table.

The silence after was thick. Hinano stood still behind the counter, her hand pressed to the wrist the boy had grabbed. Koichi returned to his seat by the window.

After a moment, she brought him tea he hadn't ordered. She set it down carefully, then lingered.

"Any tips on how to deal with yakuza when they come in again?"

Pouring himself tea, he glanced up at her. Her expression was light, teasing almost, but her hand still rubbed her wrist.

"Best not even speak to them."

"Oops." She smiled. "What if I already did?"

"Then at least don't get into cars with them." He looked back out the window, then back at her. "And if you must, only the backseat."

"Why?" She was laughing now, the tension bleeding out of her. "What's wrong with the front seat?"

"It's for lovers."

Koichi watched Hinano's cheeks turning pink. She looked away, busying herself with the dirty glasses the boys had left behind.

He watched her move, slowly finishing his tea.

IV.

The rain started just as Hinano was locking up. Koichi watched from his car as she tried the door twice, then pulled her jacket over her head and started toward her home. The downpour intensified, turning the street into a blur of headlights and wet pavement.

He pulled up alongside her, rolling down the glass.
She looked at the car, then at him through the open window. Water dripped from her hair onto her shoulders.

"You told me to never get into a car with a man like you," she said.

"I did and I meant it." Koichi said while he leaned across and opened the passenger door, holding her gaze. The rain drummed against the roof.

She stood there, hesitating. Then smiling a little to herself, she got in.

Neither of them spoke as he pulled into traffic. Holding her wet jacket in her lap, she left small puddles on the leather seat. The heater hummed. Classical music played low from the speakers that he turned down but didn't silence.

He took the turn toward her neighborhood without asking for directions.

Hinano noticed immediately and sat up straighter. Her hands were tightening on the jacket.

"How do you—" she was looking at him, at his calm expression. He didn't flounder.
"Will you do something to me now?" she asked.

"Do you want me to?" He kept his eyes on the road, his voice level.

Her breath caught. The silence stretched.

"No," she said finally.

"Then I don't.”

When they reached her building, he put the car in park and waited.
She sat there, water still dripping from her hair. Then she opened the door and got out. Halfway to her building, she turned back and mouthed "Thank you".

He nodded once. Hinano disappeared inside and Koichi sat in his car, hands loose on the wheel, and watched her window until the light came on.

Three days after the ride home, Koichi came in during the lunch rush. Not that there was much of a rush. Two salarymen picking at fried rice and an old woman with tea she'd been nursing for an hour. Hinano was restocking napkin dispensers when the door chimed.
She looked up and smiled, immediate and bright.
"Your usual table's taken." She nodded toward the old woman.

"I can wait."

"Don't be silly. Sit at the counter."

He did, though it put him closer to her. Close enough to smell her shampoo when she leaned over to set down his ashtray. Something floral and cheap and young.

"Ramen?"

"Yes."

She disappeared into the back. He lit a cigarette and watched the street through the window. The same view from a different angle. When she returned, she didn't go back to her napkins. She stayed on the other side of the counter, leaning forward on her elbows.

"So," she said.

He waited.

"You know where I live. You're not a salaryman." Her smile turned playful. "Should I be worried?"

He said nothing. She felt like he often did that, saying nothing when he meant yes.

"That's not very reassuring." She said smiling, trying to sound cheerful.

"It wasn't meant to be."

Her laugh came undeterred. One of the salarymen got up to pay and she excused herself. When she came back, she'd lost the playfulness. Her expression was direct, curious.

"Can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"That night. In the car." She paused, choosing her words. "Can you explain to me what it meant to sit in your passenger seat, Koichi?"

The cigarette burned between his fingers. He looked at it instead of her.

"It meant I gave you a ride home."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

She straightened and picked up her rag, went back to wiping down surfaces that didn't need it.

"Your ramen will be ready in a minute."

When she brought it, she tried to meet his gaze, but he was looking out the window so she returned to her napkin dispensers on the far side of the room. The old woman left.

He finished eating in silence. Left his money on the counter. She was in the back when he stood to go.

"Thank you for the meal," he said to the empty room.

He didn't come back after that.

V.

Hinano had heard before about the club from girls in her program. The expensive one in Roppongi where yakuza kept the VIP rooms and liked having pretty university students around. Normally she wouldn't spend the money. Normally she'd go to the cheap places in Shibuya where they watered down the drinks. But this wasn't normal.

For three weeks now Hinano was looking for him. She didn't mean to, but her eyes would drift to the window during slow periods, checking the street. The table by the window stayed empty. Other customers came and went, but none of them left too much money or smoked expensive cigarettes or sat in complete silence while she talked about nothing.

As her friends wanted to go to a club, she did not hesitate. That night she had stepped into that world of chrome, velvet ropes and bass that rattled your ribs.
Without realising it she scanned the upper levels, looking out for girls going up there for free drinks and smoke-filled lounges.
She met three girls at the bar dressed in something that barely qualified as dresses. Hinano asked them if they knew about the lounges, and their knowing smiles told her she had been right to ask. She was already picturing it. The stairs. The heavy doors. The possibility of seeing him again, even if it was stupid, even if it meant nothing.

Mizuki cornered her in the bathroom before she left with them. "What are you doing?"

Hinano laughed easily, rolled her eyes "I am just having some fun, mom."

"You don't even like clubs. And those girls?" Mizuki shook her head. "They're not going for free drinks, Hinano. They want to meet someone who'll pay their rent."

"Maybe I want my rent paid."

"You don't mean that."

Hinano checked her lipstick in the mirror. She'd borrowed the tube from one of the other girls. The color was too dark, made her look older. "Maybe I do."

She didn't, not really. But she couldn't explain the tight feeling in her chest that had been there for the last weeks. The way she kept checking the window. The passenger seat comment that played on loop in her head, his flat tone telling her it meant nothing when he had told her himself that it did.

The club was packed, the music loud. The other girls navigated the crowd with practiced ease, hips swaying, smiles bright. Hinano followed in jeans and a black top, underdressed and obvious. At the base of the stairs to the VIP section, one of the girls smoothed her hair and adjusted her neckline.

"Let me do the talking.”

They climbed the stairs. Hinano tentatively imitated how the girl in front of her swayed her hips. A man at the door looked them over with dead eyes, then stepped aside. The room beyond was dimmed, smoke hanging in layers. Men in suits occupied low couches, drinks and ashtrays scattered on glass tables. Rough voices called out greetings. One of them gestured for the girls to come in.
Hinano's eyes swept the room and found his face.

Koichi sat in the far corner, whisky glass catching the low light. He turned his head and their eyes met across the smoke-filled room. Neither of them moved.

Then one of the men was calling her over and Koichi stood up, gave a sign to the other man and crossed the space between them. His hand on her arm he pulled her back to the landing.

The door shut behind them, shutting out the muffled voices and bringing them back into the noise of the club.

"Why are you here?" His voice was flat but loud enough above the music.

"I wanted free drinks. Some fun. Like the other girls." She said light-hearted.

"You're not like them."

"What am I not like?" The words came out quicker than she meant them to. “Pretty?”

"You know that's not what I meant."

She did know. She looked at the floor, at his shoes, at anything but his face.

"Go back to your friends. This isn't a place for you."

Something hot and sharp rose in her chest. She pushed past him toward the stairs, her vision blurring
"I came here to see you, you know," she said without turning around, and then she was gone.

Koichi stood on the landing for a long moment. Someone opened the door behind him, voices spilling out, but he didn't move. He watched the spot where she'd disappeared, then went back inside and finished his whisky in one swallow.

Downstairs, Hinano found Mizuki and the others and started drinking. Vodka sodas that tasted like nothing and burned going down. One turned into three. Three into five. The room tilted pleasantly. Mizuki was saying something to her, but she did not listen.

Koichi had left the VIP lounge again, feeling restless. He stood on the landing with another glass of whiskey, watching Hinano spend his tips.

He watched as two boys from started talking to her. Hinano watched herself as she laughed at things that weren't funny, swaying with the room. One of them had his hand on her waist. The other kept whispering in her ear, his breath hot and sour.

"Let's go somewhere quieter," one of them said.

"Bathroom's empty," the other added, already pulling her toward the hall.

From the landing above, Koichi watched them guide her stumbling form toward the back of the club. He descended the stairs and crossed the floor. When he reached them, the boys were already pushing open the bathroom door.

He stepped into their space, way too close. "She's leaving."

The boys looked flustered but caught themselves. One of them stepped back, sneered. "Who the fuck are you, old man?"

The shorter one came into his face, emboldened by alcohol. "You want a problem?"

Koichi said nothing. He reached for Hinano's arm but the boy shoved him.

"She's not going anywhere."

Koichi took a step back. Looked them up and down. “Let's clear this, then.” He said, unhurriedly rolling up his sleeves. The boys eyes darted to the ink on his skin.

"Shit. Shit, we didn't know, we're sorry—" stumbled the taller one.
But the other was already swinging.

Koichi caught his fist and drove his own into the boy's stomach. Another went into his face. Something cracked and blood spilled. Onto his dress shirt, the floor. His friend was already backing away, hands up, apologizing.

Hinano swayed on her feet, her vision blurred. "What are you doing?" The words came out wrong, too loud. The boys had left, Koichi was washing his hands, while she screamed at him. "You didn't want to talk to me. Now I try to have some fun and I can't even do that!”

Wordlessly Koichi steered her toward the exit, past the staring crowd, out into the cold air. She fought him weakly, her coordination gone.

"Let go. I want to stay. You don't get to decide—"

Opening the passenger door of his car for her, she tumbled in. He found a plastic bag and put it in her lap. She used it before they'd gone three blocks.

At her apartment, she threw up in the toilet. Koichi sat on the edge of the bathtub, holding her hair with one hand, smoking with the other.

She rested her head on her arms afterward, pale and trembling. Her eyes flickered to the blood on his shirt.
He ran the tap, filled a glass, and handed it to her.
He bought water and aspirin from the vending machine downstairs, left them by her bed.
When he walked out, the hallway light flickered, and the sound of rain started again somewhere outside.

His hands still smelled faintly of her hair. He stood beside his car, one hand pressed flat against the roof, and stared at nothing.

VI.

Koichi came back on a Tuesday afternoon. The lunch crowd had thinned to nothing and Hinano was refilling salt shakers when the door chimed. She looked up and stared, the shaker suspended in her hand.

"Hi."

"Hello, Hinano." He stood in front of the counter. "Is the usual table available?"

She nodded toward the window. He sat and she brought him his ashtray without being asked. When she returned with tea, he was looking at her instead of the street.

"How have you been?"

"Busy. End of semester." She set down the cup. "You?"

"The same."

A lie, probably, but she didn't push. "Ramen?"

He nodded. Before she could walk away he called her back.
“Hinano, would you want to have dinner with me? Somewhere that isn't here."

Her face did something complicated. Surprise, then pleasure, then something more guarded. "Like a date?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. If you're free."

She was still holding the teapot, hugging it against her chest. "I have class until six."

"I'll pick you up at seven."

"Okay." The smile broke through then, bright and uncontrolled. "Okay, yes."

He took her to a small izakaya in Shinjuku, the kind of place with private rooms. They sat across from each other on cushions, a low table between them covered in small plates neither of them had ordered. The food just appeared, course after course, and disappeared again.

"This must cost a fortune," Hinano said, studying a piece of grilled fish that looked too beautiful to eat.

"Don't worry about it."

"That's what rich people always say."

"I'm not rich."

She raised an eyebrow. "You drive a car that costs more than my yearly rent."

"The car is for work."

"What do you tell people when you have to be more specific as Business?" She sought out his eyes as she asked.

He met her gaze. "Real estate acquisitions."

She laughed. "Is that what you call it?"

"It's what's on my taxes.” he said in a neutral tone.

She hovered a moment over the fish. Then popped it into her mouth and made a small sound of appreciation.

"Okay, this is actually amazing. Way better than our ramen."

"That isn't hard to beat."

She laughed. "You kept coming back though."

He looked at her for a long moment, one corner of his lip curling upward. Hinano averted her gaze first, her cheeks flushed.

“You really don't say all that much.” she said to her dish.

"Most people have more interesting things to say."

"See, that's where you're wrong." She looked at him again. "Do you know how exhausting it is when everyone always has to fill the silence? My mom does that. She calls me sometimes three times on a Sunday.”

“Worried?” He asked.

"She thinks I'm going to end up like my father. Stressed and sick and gone before I'm sixty."

"What do you think?"

"I think I'd rather be broke than dead." She said it lightly, but he heard the fear underneath.

Koichi didn't know what to say to that. So he poured her more tea and let her talk about her classes, about the endless arguments in her literature seminar over what Soseki really meant.

"What do you think he meant?" he asked.

"I think he was lonely." She said, without drama. "I think a lot of great writers are just lonely people trying to connect with someone."

"Isn't that a sad way to look at it?"

"Maybe. But it makes their work matter more, doesn't it? If you knew someone wrote something because they needed you to understand them." She tilted her head. "Do you read much?"

"Some."

"Let me guess. Historical fiction? Samurai novels?"

"Poetry, actually."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He regretted saying it. But she was leaning forward again, delighted.

"What kind of poetry? Modern? Classical?"

"Both. Mostly classical."

"Like haiku?"

"Sometimes."

"Will you tell me one you like?"

"No."

She pouted. "Why not?"

"Because you'll laugh."

"I won't! I promise." She held up her small finger. "Pinky promise!”

He regarded her. There was something about the way she asked, eager and genuine, that made him relent. He thought, choosing carefully.

"No sky and no earth
At all. Only the snowflakes
Fall incessantly.”

Hinano went quiet. She sat back, turning the words over. "Who is that from? It's not Basho?”

He nodded.”It's Hashin.”

“How do you understand it? That nothing matters but the present moment? Nothing but the fall of the snowflakes?”

"I don't read much into them.”

"Don't you?" She met his eyes. "But isn't that what you think? That nothing matters?"

"I think some things matter."

"Like what?"

Again he looked at her, for one, then two breaths.
"The tea is good here," he said instead.

She smiled, sad and knowing.

They stayed until the staff started cleaning up around them. He drove her home after which she smiled at him through the passenger window.

"Same time next week?"

He nodded.

VII.

A month into whatever they were doing, Koichi pulled up outside her university at three in the afternoon. He wasn't supposed to be there. Their dinner wasn't until seven.

Students started noticing immediately. The black car idling in the fire lane. The man in the expensive suit behind the wheel. Hinano's friends saw him first. They clustered around her as she came down the steps, their voices carrying across the parking lot.

"Is that him?"

"Hinano, that's a yakuza."
"Is he paying you? Are you in trouble?"
“He could be your father!”

She shook her head, pulling away from them. "He's not. I'm not. It's fine."

"It's not fine. Look at him."

But she was already walking toward the car. She got in the passenger seat and immediately knew something was wrong. His hands were tight on the wheel. His jaw set.

"What are you doing here?"

He pulled into traffic without answering.

"Koichi. I have work today. I have shift in an hour."

"No you don't. I called you in sick."

"You what?" She twisted in her seat to look at him. "You can't just do that. They're going to think I'm flaking. Why would you—"

"Not today, Hinano."

His tone made her stop. She'd never heard him sound like that. Flat and hard and completely closed off. She watched the streets pass, recognizing the route to her apartment instead of the diner.

"What's going on?"

He didn't answer. Two police cars screamed past them, lights flashing, heading in the direction they'd come from.

Hinano's hands started to shake. "Koichi. What's going on?"

"It's a day to stay indoors."

"That's not an answer."

He pulled up in front of her building and put the car in park. Finally looked at her. His face was completely empty.

"Go inside. Lock your door. Don't leave until tomorrow."

"You're scaring me."

"Good. Be scared. Go inside."

She got out on trembling legs and he waited until she was through the door before driving away. She stood in her apartment and turned on the news. Nothing yet. Just regular program. She tried calling the diner but no one picked up.

The next day it was on the local news. Several buildings on the street had their windows smashed. One had received a firebombing, obscenities scrawled over the interiors. Police called it a message. Another girl, a colleague of hers, had been in the back when it happened. She was fine. Shaken but fine. No one else had been inside. Just property damage.

Hinano sat on her floor and shook and couldn't stop thinking about how she should have been there. Would have been there, pouring bad coffee and wiping down tables, if he hadn't come to get her.

She tried calling him. No answer. Tried texting. Nothing.

The next day, the owner found a wad of cash in his mailbox. An impersonal note told him to use it for new windows. He told the news to the employees, as he had no idea from whom it was.

But Hinano knew.

She went to the places she thought she might find him. The izakaya where they'd had dinner. The clubs in Roppongi. She even went back to that VIP room, though the man at the door turned her away this time.

He was gone. And he didn't come back.

Part II - Eighteen Months

I.

Hinano dated other men after Koichi disappeared.
They met at a ramen place popular with students, full of steam, chatter and clinking bowls.
He was in her year, business faculty. Wore a jacket too thin for the weather and talked like he was always late for something.

“I just have to finish this group project,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “After that, it’s interviews. I applied for internships at three banks already.”

She nodded. “Sounds busy.”

He laughed. “It’s the right kind of busy. You know how it is. I want to get in early, make the right impression. It’ll pay of later.”
He said it like it was a law of nature. “I'll still make time for you though.” He said, smiling at her.

When she talked, he nodded eagerly, sometimes finishing sentences for her. She thought he probably wasn’t boring, just relentlessly forward-facing.

When the waiter brought the bill, he reached for it automatically. “Next time’s on you, okay?”

“Next time,” she echoed.

Outside, the air smelled of rain and broth. Students hurried past in loose groups, laughing about exams. He waved, already half-turned toward the station.

“Don’t stay up too late!” he called and smiled brightly.

She watched him disappear into the lights. Hinano walked the other way, slowly, hands in her coat pockets. The night pressed close. Briefly she thought she saw a black sedan at the corner, engine idling. But when she looked again, it was just another car pulling into traffic.

"He's perfect for you," Mizuki said the next day. "I heard he is really funny at parties.”
As Hinano didn't answer she added “At least he's not going to get you in trouble."
Hinano nodded but knew she wouldn't meet him again.

She tried smoking once. Bought a pack of the expensive imported kind she'd seen Koichi smoke and stood outside her building at two in the morning. The smoke burned her throat and made her cough until her eyes watered. She threw the cigarette into the gutter, going back inside.
The pack sat in her drawer for two months before she threw it away.

Time did what time does. The edges of memory softened. She stopped checking for his car. Stopped expecting him in crowded rooms. Started believing what everyone told her, that she'd dodged something terrible, that she was lucky he'd left.

II.

The train rocked gently. Evening light slid along the windows, gold turning to gray. Her mother had tried to call her twice before. Now Hinano had her phone pressed between her cheek and shoulder, a plastic bag of groceries on her lap.

“Are you eating properly?” her mother asked.

“I am.”

“You sound tired.”

“I had class. Then work.”

A pause. “You still at that diner?”

“Mm.”

“I thought you’d look for an internship by now. You need something for after graduation.”

“I have work, Mum.”

“Maybe you can take less shifts for that, I can send you some —”

“I don't want that.” she interrupted her sharply. Hinano looked at her reflection in the window.

Her mother sighed softly. “Your father would be proud of you. How self-reliant you are.”

Hinano winced. “As if that were a noble trait.”

“What do you mean?”

“He worked too much for too little.”

Silence stretched, broken by the clatter of dishes on the other end. Her mother said quietly, “He gave us everything he could.”

“I know.”

“That’s not little.”

Hinano didn’t answer. She thought of that one summer they had driven to Miyako island and went to the beach. The only time her father had gotten off of work for more than a couple of days. He’d spent most of it asleep in the sand.

“Call me when you get home,” her mother said.

“Okay. Bye.”

The line clicked off.

Outside, the train slid into another dark tunnel. Hinano stared at her faint reflection, the tired eyes, the weariness in her face. She would get a different job.

III.

The text came on a Wednesday afternoon while Hinano was in the library. It was from a former colleague from the diner she had kept in contact with.

He's back. That scary guy with the big tips. I still think it was him who paid for the windows.

She stared at her phone for a full minute. Around her, students whispered and typed and turned pages. She read the message again.

He is asking for you.

What should I tell him?

Hinano's hands shook as she typed back. Nothing. Don't tell him anything.

She turned off her phone and tried to focus on her essay. Managed two sentences before giving up.

Two days later, his black car was waiting outside the university.

The whispers started immediately. Students pointing, pulling out phones. Her friends found her before she could leave the building.

"He's here again," Mizuki said, her face tight with worry. "Hinano, you can't go out there."

"I'm not going to."

"Good."

But she could see him through the glass doors. Sitting behind the wheel, patient and still. Smoking and Waiting.

She left through the side entrance.

He was there the next day. And the next. And the next. Always in the same spot, engine running. People took pictures now. Rumours started in the university chats. Is that a yakuza? Is he stalking someone? Should we call the police?

On the fifth day, something in Hinano snapped.

She marched from the front entrance, her vision tunneling, and yanked open the passenger door. Behind her, she heard Mizuki calling her name, but she was already getting in, already slamming the door.

"What is your problem?" She wasn't yelling yet but her voice was loud. "First you disappear. Now that I want you to disappear, you show up again!"

Koichi sat perfectly still, his hands loose on the wheel. Infuriatingly quiet.

"I wanted to give you some time." he said while turning to look at her.

She laughed, sharp and bitter. "Thank you, dad. Nice that you think of me like a child. A word would have been nice."

She wanted to stay angry. But her throat was tight and her vision blurred. The tears came before she could stop them.

She hit his arm. Not hard, but meaning it. "If you're going to treat me like a child, then leave me alone! I'm sick of everyone telling me what to do! I thought you were different. I thought you'd let me make mistakes. But you're just like all of them.” She hit him again, a little harder. “You only talk about what's right and the best for me. What if I don't want that? I never get to choose!"

The tears came faster now, hot and angry. She pressed her palms to her eyes but it didn't help. The car was silent except for her breathing, ragged and hitching.

After a long time, Koichi spoke. "I'm sorry."

"You're a coward!" She screamed it, raw and desperate.

He said nothing. Which was as good as a yes.

The silence stretched. Outside, students walked past, some glancing in, most pretending not to see. Hinano's breathing slowly steadied. She wiped her face with her sleeves, leaving dark smears of mascara.

"My brother was stabbed," Koichi said finally.

She looked up, confused. "What?"

"I didn't know he even was in a gang." He started the engine. "I left so he wouldn't be.”

"I'm sorry." She faltered. "Is he...?"

"No. But he wasn't well."

"Did you talk to him?"

"I tried getting him to leave."

"But he doesn't want to." Hinano substituted.
Koichi's grip tightened on the wheel. "You also don't leave," she said quietly.

"That's what he said as well."

They drove in silence. Not toward her apartment, not toward anywhere she recognized. Just driving. The sun was starting to set, painting the buildings orange and gold.

"It's not your fault," Hinano said.

He didn't answer. She watched his profile, the tight line of his jaw, the way his knuckles were white on the wheel, how scarred and crooked they were.

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-six."

"Then he's old enough to decide." She said it slowly, carefully.

Koichi sighed. A real sigh, deep and tired, something she'd never heard from him before. "Not everyone deserves to be a criminal."

"But you do?"

"It's too easy for me."

She looked out the window at the passing streets, the evening crowds heading home to safe lives. "I envy you for that."

His eyes darted to her. She met his gaze.

"It's true. I wish I was bold. And fearless. And maybe also dangerous."

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

"You wanted to say it's nice that I'm not." She sighed. "It's what everyone says. At least you didn't say it."

They drove for another ten minutes. She wasn't sure he knew where they were going.

Finally, he spoke. "I'll stay if you want."

Her breath caught. She sat there, staring at the street, then staring at his profile. "Why should I believe you?"

He glanced at her. "Sitting in the passenger seat."

Part III - Front Seat

I.

The restaurant was in a quiet suburb that smelled faintly of rain and soy sauce. Narrow streets lined with vending machines, low houses with laundry hanging like pale flags. It wasn’t a dangerous area, but everything seemed like it was in need of a new coat of paint. The other cars were old and rusty. His stood out with his shiny, black flanks. Impeccably clean, as always.

Inside the restaurant, the lights were soft and yellow. The tables had plastic flowers, the menu laminated. An old couple sat by the window eating silently, while a radio hummed faintly from the kitchen.

“Why here?” Hinano asked as they walked in.

“My mother used to bring me here.” They sat at a small table at the window.

Hinano watched his face carefully. He looked like he always did, but she thought to see a tightness in his forehead. “What were you like as a child?” she asked him.

“The same as now I guess.”

“So a serious child that liked poetry.” She teased him lightly.

To her surprise he gave her a glance that flickered with annoyance. “I’m not some quiet poet caught in a tragic story,” he said flatly.

Hinano blinked, a little taken aback. He picked up the menu, asked what she would like to eat.
She watched him for a while. The light caught the side of his face, softening the lines she’d grown used to.

“Is your mother..?” She left the question open.

“Yes. They’re both dead.”

“You cared for your brother?”

He nodded, curtly. “But only for a short while. Took too much interest in what I did.”

“You think it was you who gave him the idea to join?”

Koichi's eyes didn't leave the menu. “I left to give him a chance.” He flicked a page. “Instead he went to my old boss and asked for work. Used my name to get in.”

They didn't speak for a while. He closed the menu. “What about you, were you a bubbly child?” Koichi asked.

“Bubbly?” Hinano laughed, but without humour. “I think I was probably obnoxious.”

He raised a brow.

“Having no siblings to put you in check and your parents praising the earth you walk on isn’t a good recipe.” She smiled faintly.

“I think you turned out fine,” he said, a small smile tugging at his own lips.

She looked down, hiding her grin behind her glass of water.

After they’d paid, they stepped outside. The street was quiet except for the sound of a TV somewhere behind thin apartment walls. A cat crossed the road, tail low.

They walked without direction. The houses were small but neat, their lights warm. Potted plants lined the doorways.
Hinano stopped and turned to face him. “I like knowing there was a before. That you weren’t always just this scary man in a suit.”

His brows knitted imperceptibly, a shadow passing over his expression.
She noticed and smiled softly, almost to herself.

He drove her home slowly, taking the long way through smaller streets. They didn’t talk much. The silence felt easy now.

When he pulled up in front of her building, she didn’t get out right away. The engine ticked softly as it cooled.

"Will I see you again soon?"

"Yes."

She looked into his eyes deeply, searching for the lie. Then she nodded and left the car, waving back at him through the window.

II.

They fell back into their rhythm. Dinners twice a week. Long drives on Sundays. Conversations that were light but truthful. Koichi read more poetry than she had thought. He was surprised to learn that she liked to cook. Sometimes she could catch a tiny expression she hadn't seen before.

“Where do you work now?” Koichi asked her one sunday. They had driven out to a look-out over the city that was frequented by couples.

Hinano stood at the railing, watched the city below as the lights came on in the streets. She named the hotel in Ropongi where she helped at reception.

Koichi had come to stand next to her at the railing and regarded her sharply. “You know who that belongs to.”

“Yes.”

“And also who goes there.”

“Yes.” she said again, turning her head and meeting his gaze.

“Since when do you work there?”

“Don't know. Some time after you left.” She said lightly.

His hands gripped the railing.

Hinano looked at him curiously. “I am not your brother” she said.

It turned darker. Next to them stood a couple making out.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, and he briefly stared at the little smile that played on her lips.

“You know I mentioned you once.” she said to the lights below them. “At work.”

Koichi arched an eyebrow, but she did not turn to see it.

“So are you some kind of boss?” She asked him, her voice even.

He shook his head. “Not quite.”

“But also you are somehow?”

A breeze came up and moved her ponytail. Koichi was looking at it when he mumbled back “Somehow.”

“And your brother?” she asked and looked at him.

He gave her a wry smile that answered the question.

The conversation turned easy again. He drove her home, she commented on the music.

“That's not classic.”

“I also listen to other things,” he said.

“Who is that then?”

“Aretha Franklin”

“Do they tease you for being so cultured?” She said, looking at the street smiling.

He blinked. Slowly he answered her. “You got that right.”

After their fourth dinner, they stood by his car in front of her building. The night was warm, summer starting to settle over the city.

"How high is your rent?" he asked suddenly.

She laughed. "Why? Do you want to move in next door?"

"No. I'll pay for it starting next month. You should focus on your studies and not have to work."

The laughter died. She stared at him. "What?"

"Your rent. I'll pay it."

"You're doing it again." Her voice went flat. "You promised you wouldn't treat me like a child anymore."

"If I say I'll pay your rent, then it will be paid."

Anger flashed hot in her chest. "I refuse."

"You can't refuse. This is how it goes."

She was speechless, her mouth open. Then the words came tumbling out. "Do you think I'm doing this because I want a sugar daddy? Because I'm in it for the money?"

"No. But these are the rules. You already pay by dating someone like me. You weren't against me paying before."

"Because I didn't know you were paying me for spending time with you! I thought those were gifts!"

"What difference does it make?"

"All the difference!" She was yelling now, not caring who heard. "I'm not doing transactional dating! Either you believe me that I want to see you or you don't. You are not the one to pay me for it!"

He stood very still, his face unreadable.

She took a breath, turning to leave but his hand caught her wrist. Gentle but firm. She stopped but didn't turn around.

"Hinano."

She waited.

He pulled her back, slowly, giving her time to resist. She didn't. When she faced him, he kissed her. The little sound that escaped her as their lips touched, seemed to spurn him on. His hand cupped her face and she pressed even closer. The kiss deepened, turned urgent. Her hands fisted in his jacket and she kissed him back like she had waited for it.

They broke apart, both breathing hard.

"Only gifts then," he murmured, while staring at her.

"Okay." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Okay."

They stood there for a long moment, neither wanting to move.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asked.

"Yes." He said but he didn't move. Just held her there under the streetlight, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. Hinano sighed and went up to her flat alone.

III.

The earrings came in a small black box with gold lettering. Real pearls, glowing in the lamplight. Hinano turned them over in her hands, feeling their weight.

"These are too much."

"They're not." Koichi was driving, his eyes on the road. They'd just left a restaurant in Ginza where the bill had made her stomach clench.

"I can't wear these to class. People will think I stole them."

"Then wear them at the hotel."

She put them back in the box and closed it carefully.

"Don't you have to give most of your money to your boss?"

He nodded.

"And you still have enough for all this?"

"I'm good at what I do.”

The next week it was a necklace. Delicate gold links that caught the light. The week after that, a silk scarf. They accumulated in her apartment, beautiful things in their beautiful boxes.

"You have to stop," she said finally. They were parked outside her building. "I mean it, Koichi. No more gifts."

He looked at her. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Really."

For two weeks, nothing came. She told herself she was relieved.

The next day walking back from the library, she passed a man smoking. Mid-thirties, well-dressed, she recognized the smell of his cigarettes, but didn't know him. She turned and looked at him, let her gaze linger while thinking of someone else.

The man stopped. "Can I help you with something?"

She held his gaze for three heartbeats. Watched his expression shift from confusion to interest to intent. Then she turned and kept walking faster, her pulse loud in her ears, a small smile on her lips.

That evening, Koichi picked her up for dinner. She got in the car and he went very still.

"You're wearing perfume."

"I always wear perfume."

"Not that one."

She'd used one of the little samples they gave out for free. Something heavier, more obvious than what she usually wore. She watched him process this, watched his hands tighten on the wheel.

"Where do you want to eat?" His voice was carefully neutral.

"Anywhere. You choose."

He took her to a small place in Shibuya. They sat across from each other and their gaze met before they both averted their eyes. After every casual movement, him reaching for water, her brushing hair behind her ear, their gazes sprang to each other, only to slip away again.

"You're quiet tonight," she said.

"I'm always quiet."

"This is different."

He looked at her. Really looked, in a way that made her breath catch. "What do you want from me, Hinano?"

The question hung between them. She thought about it, Koichi's face seemed almost open. Eager.

Finally Hinano gave him a small smile. "What would you have done when I had said yes that first night?"

“Hinano.” He said it low. Like a warning. Still his expression didn't change.

She reached across the table and ran her thumb across his knuckles, feeling the scars there. He went absolutely still.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," she said softly. "You can decide what you want."

"I know what I want."

"Then take it." she said and looked at him. Held his gaze like she had practiced. Watched how his expression still stayed carefully the same.

Slowly he pulled his hand away. "Not like this."

"Like what?"

He leaned back, one arm draped over the back of a chair, and watched her. "Not when you're testing me."

She sat back, chin held high and something close to a smirk on her lips. "Maybe I am. Maybe I want to see you slip."

"Why?"

"You made me wait. You held doors open and told me not to get in." She leaned forward. "Now it's your turn."

His thumb moved slowly over the silver band on his index finger. "You're cruel."

She smiled.

They finished dinner in near silence. Back in the car he adjusted the mirror with two fingers and neither of them spoke. At her building, he put the car in park and she waited.

Koichi leaned across the center console, in that deliberate, lazy way he always moved. Taking her chin in his hand he kissed her, slow and sensual. Hinano opened her mouth and his tongue slipped in, tasting like smoke. Shifting in his seat, Koichi pulled her even closer, as the kiss grew wild and unfocused. Her hand moved up to his collar, slipped beneath and touched his neck. They were breathing heavily, Koichi was still kissing her, but his own hands hadn't moved. So Hinano pulled back.

They looked at each other, their lips swollen and red. Koichi's eyes laid dark and heavy on her, looking like he wanted to say something but didn't. Hinano opened the passenger door, threw him a long glance before she got out. He didn't follow her.

IV.

The pipe burst on a Tuesday morning. Hinano woke to the sound of water rushing and found clothes and textbooks already floating. Her landlord came, fixing the worst damage, all apologetic and useless. But her books were ruined. Swollen and illegible, pages stuck together in waterlogged clumps.

She sat on her bed and made lists. What she needed to replace. What she could borrow. What she could photocopy at the library. The numbers kept growing.

Two days later, she was still sitting with her calculator when her phone rang.

"Are you busy?" Koichi asked.

"No. Just doing some accounting."

"I'll pick you up."

She brought her notebook with the calculations, the pages covered in crossed-out numbers and increasingly desperate math. They drove to a café and she spread the pages across the table.

"My pipe burst. Flooded everything." She stared at the numbers. "I need new textbooks. I tried to find used copies online but half of them are marked up because it's exam season and everyone needs them."

Koichi studied the list. "How much total?"

"Forty-eight thousand yen." She said it quietly. "I have about half saved. I can probably find some of them cheaper if I wait, but I need them for my paper next week, so I can't really wait, and my mom would help but I know she would worry and pester me and—” She stopped. Took a breath. "I'm asking if you'll pay for them."

He didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"I'll pay you back."

"You don't have to."

She met his eyes while he pulled out his phone and transferred the money. Her phone buzzed with the notification. Forty-eight thousand yen.

Her shoulders dropped. She exhaled slowly.

"Thank you." She said it quietly, but meant it completely.

That evening she ordered the books. Just like that, because she didn't have to spend two hours calculating shipping costs and deciding which chapters she could live without.

When they arrived, she texted him a photo of the stack.

They're perfect. Thank you.

He replied immediately. Good.

Hinano laid on her bed surrounded by pristine textbooks. She was smiling at the ceiling, her breathing came easy. Later that evening she cooked herself a big meal and still had food in the fridge.

V.

A week later Hinano saw the car as soon as she left the building. Black, expensive, two men in suits. Her heart leapt. Then she realized it wasn't his car. Wrong model. Wrong plates.

They got out as she approached. Both young, mid-twenties maybe. Trying too hard to look casual.

"Hinano Kobayashi?"

She stopped. "Who's asking?"

"Koichi sent us to pick you up. Something came up."

Everything in her body went cold. "No he didn't."

"He said you might be stubborn about it." The taller one smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Come on. He's waiting."

Koichi would never send someone without telling her first. Would never send strangers in a car she didn't recognize. Her hand was already moving to her phone.

"No he’s not."

She ran.

Behind her, she heard them curse. Footsteps. She made it through the university doors and slammed them behind her. Only student IDs could open them from outside. Through the glass she saw them stop, exchanging glances. The shorter one looked furious but the taller one grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the car.

They peeled out. Hinano's hands shook so badly she almost dropped her phone getting the picture. The license plate was just barely visible.

She sent it to Koichi with three words. They came for me.

He called shortly after. "Where are you?"

"Inside the building. They're gone."

"Stay there. I'm coming."

He was there in twelve minutes. She'd never seen him drive like that, reckless and fast. Hinano got in the car and he turned her face toward him, checking for injuries. Hinano’s breath caught. Despite the situation, heat climbed her neck.

"Are you hurt?" Koichi asked her.

"No. I didn't get in."

His jaw was tight. "You learned."

"They only had to offer the backseat." She tried to smile but her voice shook.

At her door, he hesitated. "I have to go. Find them."

"I know."

"Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone."

"Okay."

He left and she sat in her apartment alone, jumping at every sound. She turned on the TV but couldn't focus. Made tea but couldn't drink it. Just sat and waited and tried not to think about what finding them meant.

VI.

The next day was a Saturday and the news that morning was brief. A car had gone off the road into the river. Three bodies recovered. Police suspected gang involvement but had no leads.

She believed to recognize the car model in the grainy footage.

Koichi came by in the afternoon. She went downstairs. Stood by his car in the afternoon sun like they'd done a dozen times before.

"Did you kill them?" Her voice was steady. "Just because they waited for me?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't me." Her breath caught at the confirmation. Koichi paused. "They belonged to another gang. Killed one of my men's daughters. He did it."

She was quiet for a long time, processing. "So it wasn't about me."

"It was about many things."

She nodded, looked at the car. At him, how he didn't smoke. How he looked at her so dark and intently.

“A kiss is not enough for that.” he said and Hinano nodded, her legs slightly unsteady. They went upstairs.

Her apartment was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. She passed into the living room, her hands growing restless as she thought about the last time he had been in here. Koichi stood by the door, clicking the lock shut behind his back. Her breath caught at the noise.

He stepped out of his shoes, his gaze still on her, closed the small distance between them. Before her he slowly went down to his knees. Held her gaze, while his hands slid under her shirt, across her stomach, towards her breasts. He kissed her hipbone. Pulled the waistband a little lower, kissed her again.

Her skirt fell from her hips.

He looked up at her and said quietly “Take your shirt off.”

She did, watching him watch her. When she reached for the last button, her fingers weren't quite steady. He noticed. Didn't say anything about it.

As he rose, she had to tilt her head back to keep his eyes.

"Show me," she whispered, her hand already at his shirt buttons.

Koichi unbuttoned them slowly. Revealed his hairless chest, the little path of dark hair on his stomach. His eyes didn't leave hers, as he shrugged out of his jacket, then the shirt. Turned so she could see his back.

The crane covered him from shoulder blades to waist. Black ink and gray shading. A neck curved in an elegant line, with a blood red dot on its head. He let her look before he turned around again.

His hands found hers and brought them to his belt. She fumbled with the buckle. He let her. Didn't help, though she could hear how his breath had changed. When her hand finally closed around him, the sound he made was low and involuntary

They moved to her futon in the corner. As he came down above her, Hinano looked up at him, noticed how his hair had escaped his slick back and fell down into his eyes.

She'd heard him quiet for months. Watched him choose every word. Now she heard the opposite. Not silence, but a man coming undone in small, helpless sounds, none of them decided.

Afterwards they lay tangled together, her head on his chest. The evening light crept across the floor.

He took out the cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

“Don't smoke in here” she told him with mock seriousness. He looked a little incomplete without a cigarette in his hand.

"Why a crane?” She asked. “Did you choose it?"

"No, they are chosen for you. It's based on your demeanor." His voice still sounded a little hoarse.

"So what is a crane like?"

"Still and quiet.”

"Who are they then?" She asked, smiling at his chest. "They seem to have gotten you right."

"My bosses."

"There is more than one?" She said brightly, like it had been a joke.

"Three. But don't worry about it," he mumbled into her hair.

"I am not worried," she said and her voice was calm and even. "What am I like, then?"

"What would you like to be?" Came back his question.

"Don't cheat!" She raised her head to look at him.

Koichi met her gaze. “I don't cheat. I just think it's more important.”

She said nothing and watched him inquisitively. Under her gaze his hands opened the pack of cigarettes, closed it again. Trying to abstain from taking one out.

"A Lioness," she said finally. And sighing she added "but I am probably the antelope being hunted by her." Hinano laid her head back down.

"I would have said a cat." His voice rumbled in her ear pressed to his chest.

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see them. "You cheat again."

"No, I really did." He said, "They do what they want," and his lips curled into a little smile that she also couldn't see. It quickly died on his lips.

The room grew dark and quiet. Hinano adjusted her position so her head lay on the pillow next to him. He watched her lids growing heavy and her breathing evening out.

But Koichi couldn't sleep. He sat by the window, forehead against the glass, and watched the city wake. His reflection stared back. The ashtray beside him was full, he'd smoked through half the pack while she slept.

Hinano woke to an empty futon. Her hand reached across and found it cold. She sat up quickly, then she saw him.
Sitting by the window, perfectly still except for the cigarette moving to his lips and away. The glass beside him was full. He looked like he hadn't moved in hours.
She got up and wrapped the blanket around herself, came to sit beside him.

“You are still here,” she said.

His gaze came to her, unfocused at first. He nodded.

Koichi sat there so still, she was reluctant to touch him. He moved to close the window. Took up his shirt, started to dress.

“You are leaving already?”

“You are awake.” He said.

Her mouth opened, closed. She started again. “You only stayed so I wouldn't be hurt when I woke up.”

“Is that a bad reason to stay?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “You still think I'll break.”

He halted, but only briefly.

“I'll stay longer next time.” He said but didn't look at her while he pulled on his trousers.
She saw only now that he had several scars. One looked like a bullet wound on his leg. He covered it with his suit pants.

Hinano watched him while he dressed, not moving herself.

Before he left she asked "Where do you actually live?"

“Is that important?”

She nodded. "I want to see it."

“It's just a place.” Koichi answered, but her eyes stayed on him with intensity.

“I want to see it,” she said again and slowly he nodded.

VII.

The next evening Koichi came back from a job. He hadn't slept in almost 48 hours. Standing in one of the bosses clubs, he was washing his hands from the stains. One of his men stood next to him, already hammered. They mostly were after a job like this.
His own hands were calm. He was calm. The light in these washrooms was tinted red for some reason. Koichi couldn't see if his hands were clean. Drying them he stood a while in front of the mirror after the other had staggered out. He looked at himself. His expressionless face.
He brushed a hand down his face, breathing deeply. Spitting into the sink once, he left the washroom.

Outside it was loud. The men drank themselves into a stupor, it wouldn't be long until the first fights broke out. The usual women were there as well and would make a good tip off of his men. One girl was new. She was young, still looking unsure. He averted his eyes and chose a seat with his back to her. It wasn’t long until Riko strode over to him purposefully.

“I heard what you did, Koichi,” she purred. “Boss told me to give you a little extra attention today. Said you’ve earned it.”

He regarded her with the same distant neutrality he always did. She'd learned that look months ago.

“Come on, Koichi,” she whined. “We used to have fun, didn't we?” She brushed her hand down his chest. “We can do that again.”

He caught her hand, pulled her closer to him with a jerk. She winced. He looked at her with clear intent.

“Don't overstep, Riko.” He said close to her face, pushing past her to stand.

Riko’s hand fell limply to her side.

Koichi drove to Hinano's place, almost falling asleep at the wheel.

She let him in after a knock, he smelled like smoke and something metallic. When she looked closer, there was a dark stain on his cuff he'd missed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked after letting him in.

"No."

She didn't push.

“I just need to sleep,” he said. As he undressed, Hinano scanned his body, but there were only the old scars.

“You are not hurt.” She said.

Koichi didn't seem to notice, just seemed endlessly tired. He still slept as she stood up for classes the next day.

VIII.

Hinano came over to his apartment three days later, in the evening after her classes. The building was exactly what she’d imagined. Glass and steel. It seemed soundproofed from the world below.

The elevator was carpeted and silent. Her reflection looked nervous in the brushed metal.

Koichi opened the door before she could knock twice.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of clean linen and the clean smell of citrus. The furniture looked new, untouched. Floor-to-ceiling windows cut the city into neat squares of light.

There were no pictures. No clutter. It looked impersonal to her eyes. Except for the stereo. It took up half of one wall. The record shelf below was lined with albums in perfect order, each spine aligned and clean of dust.

“This is nice,” she said, because she had to say something.

“It’s just a place.” He said again.

Hinano walked further in. The kitchen was spotless, the counters empty. In the bedroom, the bed was made with precision. On the nightstand were a few books, carefully stacked. She picked the top one up. Masaoka Shiki. The pages were worn soft.

“You really do read poetry.” she said, tone carefully neutral.

“I told you I did.”

“I know. But seeing it is different.” She set it down again, careful not to disturb the stack.

She turned to him, her tone lighter. “It doesn’t smell like smoke.”

“I don’t smoke here.”

“But at my place you do?” She tried to sound annoyed, but her mouth curved slightly.

“I smoke when I think.”

Hinano stepped closer. “Can I try it?” She asked, looking up at him.

Koichi’s eyes moved to hers. He hesitated, then reached for the pack on the low table. He tapped one free, held it between his fingers, and lit it. The sound of the lighter was small but seemed to fill the whole room.

He took a drag first, then handed it to her. The filter was warm from his mouth.

“Slowly,” he said.

She did, and coughed once, quietly. Smoke curled from her lips in a thin, uncertain thread.

He watched her, something unreadable in his eyes. She took another drag, steadier this time.

“Good,” he murmured.

The cigarette passed back and forth between them, a small orange pulse in the dim light. Their fingers brushed.

He took the cigarette from her after she had inhaled and put his mouth to her, breathing her smoke back into her. Ash fell to the expensive carpet. Neither of them looked at it.

His hand found her collarbone, turned her head so he could kiss along her neck. S

With her head turned, Hinano caught her own reflection in the window glass. Hazy, gold-lit, someone she almost didn't recognize standing this close to him. Next to her Koichi was towering, melting into her.

He pulled her onto the couch with him, arranging her so she straddled his lap, looking up at her now instead of down, the usual weight of his gaze turned into something closer to asking. Her hand slipped between them. Found him already hard. He went still under her,like she'd caught him.

“Hinano.” he whispered her name. Rougher than she'd heard it before.

He lifted her easily, turned her beneath him instead, and she let him. His belt came open under his own hands, almost impatient now.

When he entered her, he made a sound low in his throat that he clearly hadn't meant to make. Hinano held onto that sound until her own breath hitched.

Afterward, they lay side by side, half-covered by the throw from the couch. City light came thin and silver through the glass, turning them both pale. Koichi looked at her and his gaze was almost tender. She blinked back the sting of tears and turned her face into his neck so he wouldn't see.

His hand found her hair. Smoothed it back. She looked up, traced the line of his nose with one finger.

“A woman once told me I had a noble profile,” Koichi said.

“Should I be jealous?” she asked lightly, still touching him.

“I don’t see her anymore.” He looked at her for a long time. Long enough that her pulse picked up again, and she had to look away, flustered by nothing more than his eyes.

“She was right,” Hinano said softly. “You don’t have the face people expect.”

He exhaled. “It's the nose. It’s my mother’s.”

Hinano turned back to him. “She was Russian, right?”

He nodded. “Half.”

She studied him, his clean-shaven cheeks, the faint shadow where his jaw met his neck. His hair was untidy.

The apartment around them looked even cleaner in the quiet. The leather, the glass, the silver watch he’d left beside the ashtray.

“Is this your own apartment?” She asked.

“It belongs to the bosses.”

"Would you like to get your own place?"

He shrugged. “I can't."

“Why not?”

“Banks won't touch me.”

"But you have money."

"Doesn't matter once they know you.”

She was silent. Then added “But you put in the furniture?”

He nodded, met her eyes while he did. To Hinano he looked proud at that moment. Of being the kind of man who lived in luxury, drank good whisky and wore tailored suits.

She brushed her fingers along his chest and smiled faintly. “It suits you. You look like you were made for all this,” she said.

He turned his head toward her. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

They fell quiet again.

"How big is your organization?" she asked once more.

He regarded her. “You are curious today.”

Hinano raised her head to look at him. Plain and simple she said “Yes.”

He nodded. She laid her head back down.

"Big enough to matter. Small enough that faces still know each other.” he answered.

"We usually do construction. Debt collection. Some clubs." Koichi stretched to reach for the pack of cigarettes. "The boring kind of crime.”

Hinano could hear how he lit himself a cigarette, took a drag. She sat up, held out a hand.

“Are you a smoker now?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Can’t have you die before me,” she said lightly.

He gave a low huff close to a laugh and handed her the cigarette.

They shared it in the hush of the apartment, the air faintly perfumed with smoke and rain from the half-open window. She leaned against the back of the couch. He sat beside her in his usual composed way, arm on the backrest, watching her through the drifting haze.

When the ember reached the filter, she stubbed it out in the glass tray and exhaled one last thin stream of smoke. The city outside pulsed with its steady heartbeat. Pinks and blues that caught in the glass and brushed across their faces.

“Want to order takeout?” She asked after a moment.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Something small. Maybe sushi.”

He nodded, picked up his phone. “From the place near the station?”

“That’s the one.” She smiled faintly. “You remembered.”

He didn't look up as he placed the order. Hinano saw her own phone blinking: Her mother had called her again.

When the food arrived, they ate cross-legged at the low table, the city a dim reflection in the window behind them. She picked up a piece of tamago and held it out to him. He took it from her chopsticks without hesitation.

Later, when they’d finished, she leaned back on one hand, the other idly tracing condensation down her glass, her shoulders loose and sure. Koichi just watched her, while the record player hummed softly in the background.

As the song had finished Hinano stood up to put on a different record, something with more jazz and melody. Slowly she started moving through the room, picked up her glass of beer, while she swayed to the music. From the slight flush of her cheeks Koichi saw that she was a little drunk. He watched her dancing around. Neither did she ask him to join, nor did he get up.

Koichi had moved back to the couch. After a song or two, Hinano let herself fall into his lap, stretching there and smiling up at him with a lazy smile he hadn't yet seen often on her.

Her fingers found the thin scar across his ribs. It was old, pale against his skin.

"Where is this from?" she asked him, looking at his face.

"Was a long time ago. Still young and stupid."

Her voice came easy and light. "What happened?"

"Went too easy on someone.”

Hinano traced the bullet wound on his leg. “And this one?” she asked.

He laid half under her, eyes heavy-lidded, looking sated and lazy. “One of the first shoot-outs.”

“Does it hurt?” Hinano asked curiously, “To be shot, I mean.”

“Oh yes it hurts.” was his reply, a crooked smile on his lips.

She pondered this. “Who was the first person you killed?”

He arched an eyebrow at her, exhaled slowly through his nose. The sound was barely audible.

“Gang member” he only said. “I wasn’t yet eighteen.”

“Is it true they come back to you in your dreams?” she inquired, her voice still light and unhurried. Koichi leaned over her, kissing one of her eyebrows.

“Yes. They say that.” He said to her forehead.

After a moment he moved her over, to slide off the couch. Crouching, he looked up at her, kissed her thigh. Then he laid his head in her lap.

As her hands came to rest on his hair he mumbled “But I never see any one of them.”

“That's good,” Hinano stroked his hair. "Do you think about what would happen to me? If you don't come back one day?"

“Every time I leave."

“But you have to leave.” she said.

“Yes.”

“Can we go to sleep? I am tired.”

“Mhhm,” came his muffled answer from her lap. “Soon. Just a moment,” he said.

IX.

The morning light caught on the jewelry as soon as Hinano stepped onto campus the next day. The delicate shimmer at her wrist, a small glint every time she moved her hand. She still felt a slight headache from the drinks last night.

"I have an interview next week," Mizuki told her, stifling a yawn. "For that internship in Osaka."

"You're leaving Tokyo?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know yet.”

At the vending machine, Mizuki noticed the bracelet. Mid-button press she froze, her coins clinking in her hand. “...That’s new.”

Hinano glanced down, pretending to think. “This? Yeah. A gift.”

Mizuki’s eyes lingered. On the bracelet, the matching necklace, or the fact Hinano’s bag was suddenly designer. She didn’t smile.

“From who?”

“You know who,” Hinano said lightly, pressing a button on the vending machine so the can dropped. “Don’t make that face.”

Mizuki didn’t answer. They walked across the courtyard, past groups of students eating sandwiches and scrolling their phones. Hinano felt Mizuki watching her instead of talking.

By the time they reached the bench near the library, the silence had turned uncomfortable.

“Hinano,” Mizuki said, sitting down. Her voice was tight. “I thought you weren't seeing him anymore.”

Hinano opened her drink. “You mean Koichi?”

Mizuki flinched at the name like it was something dangerous. “You said it was over.”

“It was.”

“So why are you wearing his dirty money around your neck?”

Hinano laughed, soft and incredulous. “It’s just a necklace, Mizuki.”

Mizuki’s hand trembled on her lap. “You don’t suddenly wear those things to class. People talk, you know.”

“Let them.” Hinano leaned back, taking a slow sip, her gaze drifting to the sky. The clouds were thin, stretched and bright. “They talk anyway.”

Mizuki looked at the bracelet for a long time.

"I won’t watch you do this," she said. The line of her mouth looked thin and unkind.

Hinano didn't answer.

Mizuki stood, picked up her bag. "Call me if you change your mind." She left, before Hinano had answered her. They both knew she wouldn't call.

For a while, Hinano stayed where she was. When the bell rang for the afternoon lecture, she walked herself to class, focusing on today's topic in her mind.

X.

It was a long train ride out to her mother’s neighborhood. It took her past the high-rises, past the neat rows of convenience stores, until the view outside the window turned into long stretches of houses with tiled roofs and small vegetable gardens.
Her mother’s apartment was on the second floor of an old but clean building. Hinano pressed the doorbell once. The sound of slippers shuffled from inside before the latch clicked open.

“Hinano,” her mother said, a little breathless, as if surprised even though they’d planned this visit.

The apartment hadn’t changed. The lace curtains, the clock that ticked too loud, the framed photo of her father still on the low shelf by the TV. There was miso soup simmering somewhere.

Hinano slipped off her shoes and followed her mother into the kitchen.

“Did you eat?” her mother asked.

“On the train.”

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve made something better.”

Hinano smiled faintly. “You always say that.”

Her mother’s hands moved automatically. Pouring her tea, setting it on the table with small plates of pickles. The motions of habit. They sat across from each other, the soft clink of cups filling the silence.

“How are your classes?”

“They’re fine. But I have more work now,” Hinano said, not looking up.

“At the hotel?”

Hinano nodded.

Her mother hesitated, folding a napkin between her fingers. “Is it a good place?”

“It’s clean. The guests tip well.”

That seemed to satisfy her. "I've been taking a pottery class," she said quietly. "your father always said I should try it."

Hinano blinked. "That's good, Mom.”

“Ah, well, it's something different, you know.”

They spoke of the weather, the neighbor’s new car and the plum tree in the courtyard that wasn’t blooming this year. It felt polite, like they were guests in each other’s homes.

Then Hinano said, almost idly, “I started smoking.”

Her mother’s head lifted, eyes widening. “Why?” A little crack in her voice, sounding fragile. “Why would you do that?”

“It always looked so cool on Dad,” Hinano said, as if it were a joke.

The silence that followed was sharp. Her mother’s mouth tightened, as she looked down at her hands.

When Hinano stood to leave, she placed the silk scarf that Koichi had gifted her, on the table. The blue caught the afternoon light.

Her mother reached out and touched it, then flinched, pulling her hand back. “Hinano—”

“Wear it,” Hinano said. “It was expensive. Someone should wear it.”

Her mother looked at her then. Eyes full of something wordless and pleading.

Stepping into her shoes by the door Hinano called out. “Don’t worry. I’ll finish my degree. If only because I started it.”

Her mother didn’t answer.

The door clicked softly behind her, and Hinano stood in the hallway, listening to the muted sounds of her mother moving around the kitchen.

Outside, the air smelled faintly of rain. She walked down the narrow street toward the station.

XI.

"My brother has to leave." Koichi said it suddenly, over dinner at his apartment. "He doesn't belong in this world."

Hinano looked up from her rice. "You say that about everyone but yourself."

He set down his chopsticks. "Do you want to meet him?"

She blinked. "Your brother?"

"Yes."

"You want me to meet your brother." She repeated it slowly, making sure she understood.

"If you want to."

Trying to keep her voice casual, she said. "Okay. When?"

"This week. I'll arrange it."

---

They met at a restaurant in Shinjuku. The kind of place that looked clean but a little tired. Lacquered tables, a dusty sake display by the counter, waiters moving like they’d worked there forever.

Kenji was already seated when they arrived, lounging with one arm over the back of his chair. He looked like he’d dressed up to look casual, but had used too much hair product, a shirt with the top button undone, a watch that caught the light.

“Hinano, this is Kenji,” Koichi said. “Kenji, Hinano.”

Kenji stood and bowed, his grin sharp and boyish. “Finally. I thought he made you up.”

Hinano blinked. “Made me up?”

“Yeah. The mysterious girl who likes quiet men. I figured he was exaggerating.”

“Kenji,” Koichi said evenly.

Kenji ignored it, still smiling. “He doesn’t talk much, right? I used to think he was mute. Once didn’t say a word for three days because he was ‘thinking.’”

Koichi’s look silenced him for half a beat.

Kenji sat back down, unbothered, and gestured to the waiter with a loud snap of his fingers. “Beer. Two,” he said, then glanced at Hinano. “You drink, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“Good. I don’t trust people who don’t.” His grin was easy, practiced.

Koichi ordered tea.

Dinner started quietly enough. Kenji filled the space, all noise and motion. He was gesturing wide, laughing loudly.
He leaned close to Hinano as he asked her. “You study, right? What do you do?”

“Literature.”

“Ah, cultured.” He tilted his head, eyes skimming her face with deliberate curiosity. “That makes sense. You’ve got the look.”

Hinano smiled, polite but distant. “The look?”

“You know,” and his hands gestured her up and down, while his eyes flicked to Koichi for a second, gauging his reaction.

Koichi didn’t give him one. He was eating slowly, methodically, like Kenji wasn’t even there.

Kenji seemed to take that as a challenge. “So how did you two meet?”

“She brought me water when I was drunk on the street,” Koichi said.

Kenji barked a laugh. “Seriously? That doesn't sound like Koichi at all. My brother’s control finally cracked. Sounds like fate to witness that.”

“Kenji,” Koichi said again, quieter this time.

“What? It’s a good story. You should be grateful, nii-san. If it were me, I’d have scared her off.”

Hinano smiled faintly. “Maybe you would have.”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest theatrically. “She’s quick, Koichi. Careful or she’ll run circles around you.”

Koichi’s only reply was a slow sip of tea.

They ordered another round. Kenji’s laughter got looser, but his eyes stayed alert, watching. Every now and then, the grin faltered for a second or two.

“So, you know,” Kenji said, stirring his beer with his straw, “I was fifteen when Mum died. Koichi was already gone half the time, playing adult.”

“You were a kid,” Koichi said.

“I was learning.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “From the best. Dad also packed a mean punch whenever he could.”

“What was he like?” Hinano asked uneasily.

“Drunk” said Kenji. “And angry.” Koichi added.
They fell quiet.

“You were nineteen, you shouldn't have joined.” Koichi said after a beat of silence.

Kenji shrugged. “Old enough to know better, young enough not to care. You should’ve stayed. Maybe I’d have turned out like you, all quiet and controlled. Maybe I would have picked up reading.”

Koichi didn’t rise to it.

Kenji leaned back again, grinning at Hinano. “He’s always been like this, you know. Stoic. I once thought he was going to hit me, and he just… didn’t. Scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hinano smiled, still looking uneasy.

When the bill came, Koichi paid without comment.

Outside, Kenji shoved his hands in his pockets. The street was humid and noisy, the air smelling of exhaust.

“Hey,” Kenji said, turning to Hinano with a half-smile. “You seem too smart to be mixed up with him.”

She smiled back, thinly. “Maybe I really do like quiet men.”

Kenji laughed, sharp and genuine this time. “Then he finally got lucky.” He glanced at Koichi. “Take care of her, huh?”

When he walked off, his swagger looked practiced.
Koichi stood still, watching him disappear.

“He doesn’t belong,” he said. They walked back to the car.

Hinano looked up. “He’s like those boys at the diner.”

Koichi nodded once. “He’s like our father.”

“But not like you.”

They got into his car. Sat inside Koichi blinked once, slowly, as if clearing something from his vision. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“I don't know about that.” he finally said.

“Kenji said you didn't hit him.”

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“That one time he thought you would. But you didn’t. That must mean something.” Hinano said.

Koichi was silent, staring at her. He let his head fall into his hands, raking his hair.

“It does.” His head still in his hands he almost whispered. “Maybs I am not like him at all.”

Lifting his head without looking at her “All this time I-” his voice sounded choked, he paused. “I thought our actions made us the same.”

“It doesn't seem the same to me.” Hinano said.

They sat in silence for a while before he started the car.

XII.

Some days later Hinano cooked dinner at his apartment again. She now moved through the space with more practice. He had bought a rice cooker. They sat at the kitchen island eating Katsu Curry to the sound of Koichi Morita. It was a record that Hinano had bought.

“He is your namesake,” she had said smiling while putting the needle on the record.
It wasn't something Koichi would have listened to on his own. But the cheery melodies paired well with his curry. They drank wine afterwards because Hinano didn't like whiskey.

“It makes me too drunk too quickly,” she said about it. “Also it tastes like an ashtray.”

“Don't I also taste like an ashtray?” he had asked, making her laugh.

Now the wine stained her lips dark and purple. It made them both a little light-headed.

“What's this?” Hinano asked. There were several small red marks on the back of his hand. She had noticed it before. They were perfect circles that stood out angry and raw.

As Koichi didn't answer, she carefully pulled up his sleeve to expose his forearm. His skin was covered in small red burns.

“What happened?” She asked, stooping out her cigarette.

“Bosses weren't happy with me,” he replied evenly.

“About something you did?

“No, it was someone else.”

“But why—?” she left the question open.

“This is how it is. Everyone watches,” he covered his arm again. “while someone takes responsibility.”

She was silent.

"Don't ask me to leave," he said.

"I never asked you to do that."

There was only faint music between them. "Why didn't you?" he inquired.

"Because you can decide for yourself,” Hinano replied. "What kind of prices you are willing to pay.”

Then she asked “Where in the organization is it the least dangerous?”

“Outside of it,” Koichi answered.

“You just told me I shouldn't ask you to leave.”

He poured himself more wine, the sound of it filling the silence. “Once you got there, close to the top." Swirling the glass, he drank from it.

Hinano listened and after a moment of quiet said. “How close are you to that?”

“Could take me another 10 years,” letting his gaze rest on the city below, he added “and probably prison time.”

"Is that the only way?"

He looked at her, considering. "You can always take risks.”

She thought about that. They were silent for a while.

“What did your men do?” she asked finally. “Who did they beat-up or kill?”

Koichi looked back at her, paused his wine glass in midair. Hinano noticed the unease in the tiny movement.

“Tell me.” She said calmly.

“Businessman’s son.” Another drink. “Came to a street race and got cocky.”

“That wouldn't have happened to you” she said matter of fact.

“No.”

“That's why you are responsible for them.”

He looked at her, then nodded. His glass of wine was empty again.

XIII.

They met in the back room of a small bar Koichi sometimes used for quiet meetings. The blinds were half-closed, letting in strips of grey afternoon light.

Kenji was already there, sitting with his jacket off, ice pressed against his face. His right eye was swollen and dark, the skin purple-blue against his cheekbone. When he saw Koichi, he dropped the ice pack and gave a crooked grin.

“You should see the other guy,” he said.

Koichi didn’t respond. He sat down across from him, set his cigarette case on the table, and lit one. The sound of the lighter was small but sharp in the quiet.

“You don’t belong here,” Koichi said after a moment. His voice was even, but not cold.

Kenji scoffed. “You always say that.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah? You also meant it when you left.”

Koichi’s eyes didn’t move. The cigarette burned steady between his fingers. Kenji leaned back, his chair creaking.

“You think you’re so noble, huh?” Kenji said, his tone rising. “Like you left to save me or something. Guess what, it only forced me to follow you.”

Koichi blinked several times, like something in the air stung his eyes. Ash fell soundlessly onto the tray.

“You don’t get it,” Kenji said, softer now. “You had this… control. People listened to you. You made it look like it meant something. I thought—” He broke off, exhaled shakily. “I thought maybe I could do it too.”

Koichi looked at the cigarette in his hand. The ash was long, ready to fall. It had burned down to the filter without him noticing.

Kenji’s laugh came out rough. “Guess I’m not as good at pretending.”

Koichi stubbed the cigarette out. “I never pretended.”

“Then why’d you leave me?” Kenji said in a small voice.

Koichi didn’t answer.

For a long time neither of them spoke. The hum of a fridge came faintly from the other room. Somewhere outside, a car door slammed.

Kenji rubbed his face, wincing when he touched the bruise. His voice cracked when he spoke again. “I don’t know where else to go, aniki.”

Koichi looked at him for a long time. His brother’s jaw was trembling slightly, though he tried to hide it by biting his lip.

“Will you leave,” Koichi said quietly, “when I come back?”

Kenji opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come. His shoulders shook once, twice, and then he was crying. Making small, broken sounds that filled the empty room.

Koichi didn’t move to comfort him. He just sat there, cigarette smoke curling slowly in the stale air, watching his brother crumble.

When Kenji’s sobs finally quieted, Koichi reached for another cigarette and lit it. The flame flared briefly between them, fragile and warm, before fading back into the dim.

—

Later when he told Hinano he said quietly “I think he'll might leave,"

She looked at him. "You sound surprised."

"I thought it was inevitable. That we were both..." He trailed off.

"Trapped?"

"Doomed.”

Koichi looked up at her. “I think it was my fault he joined in the first place.”

She didn't answer.

“You don't agree?”

"I do agree. But I also think blaming yourself doesn't help him."

He looked at her.

They were silent. “You can't change what happened.” She added. “You can only act now.”

He nodded again. “I will.”

XIV.

He picked her up from work. The hotel lobby was lit low and tastefully. She came out in a black dress, hair pinned up, his gold earrings catching the light.

A man in suit nodded at her as she passed. She briefly raised her hand in greeting. In the car, Koichi watched.

As she got in, she noticed his gaze. “You are not the only Yakuza talking to me.”

“I noticed,” he said, his voice sounding neutral.

“Are you jealous?” She asked and seemed silently delighted.

As he didn't answer, Hinano became serious. “I told him your name, you know.”

Koichi gazed at her. “He didn't really accept a no until I did.” she feigned curiosity. “I wonder why he stopped so suddenly afterwards.”

He gave her a faint smile. She returned it. Koichi started the car, pulled into traffic.

“Your mom is calling you,” he said, glancing at her phone.

“It's fine. I'll call her back when I feel like it.”

“Is everything alright between you?”

Hinano smiled, “Yes, she will get used to it.”

“You changed,” he said afterwards.

“You did too.” she said and smiled against the window.

XV.

Someone had to go to prison because of what had happened with the businessman's son. Koichi told her in the car that the bosses thought about him.

"No." Was what Hinano said after hearing the news.

"Someone has to go," he explained. "I haven't been yet.”

"No," she said again, "they can send someone else.” She thought she would sound hysterical or childish. But she sounded calm.

"It's also a chance, Hinano." He said looking at the road.

"You weren't even there. I will tell the police." she answered.

"Don't!" He looked at her and his expression turned unusually stormy. "They would not like that at all.”

"I don't care," Hinano said and was surprised that she meant it. She looked at him "I don't care. If you don't want me to do that, then tell them you won't go."

He was silent for a while. "I will have to promise them something significant."

"Like what?"

"Taking territory.”

"What does that mean?"

"Buildings change hands. People stop coming to work." He met her eyes. "Some of them would be my people."

Hinano pondered this. At last she said "Where in the organisation is it the least dangerous?"

They stood at a red light. She was lighting herself a cigarette. Shook it out of the pack with easy movement.

"At the top." He replied, like last time.

“Could that get you there faster?”

“Probably.”

The light sprang to green, but Hinano did not go. It wasn’t until a car behind them honked, that she put the car into drive. As they drove she took a deep breath. Her hands were gripping the wheel as she said "I think you should do it."

Koichi looked at her, like he saw her for the first time.

"Have I corrupted you?" He asked.

Hinano inhaled deeply from her cigarette. She blew the smoke out the window and the wind carried it away.

His hand found her knee as she drove. Another drag from her, then she passed him the cigarette.