Im Suffering - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

*sad non backer noices*

primer tiro al arco a los 70 minutos de partido. ce hache i

Oughhh, cramps TwT *sobs* I wanna go back to bed, but I can't because of school- *more sobs*

"I hate you".

Thanks I hate myself too.

"You're so fucking annoying".

Sorry I got carried away with my excitement.

"It's none of your god damn business".

Sorry I didn't mean to care.

"I wish you're gone".

Me too.

"You don't deserve any of this".

I know I don't and I'm always feeling guilty about having it.

"You're so dramatic".

I'm sorry that I'm tired of hiding my feelings but I'll make sure to hide them again.

"Shut up".

Don't worry, I hate it when I talk too and if i could control it, I wouldn't utter a word.

"You're so fucking dumb".

I know...

"You're fake".

Because the real me is much worse than the fake me.

"You're so fucking sensitive".

I try to keep it to myself but its so hard sometimes.

Boy howdy do I love when I spend 30 minutes setting up a post only for it to yeet itself out of existence

I have so many interests they're all crashing together like some weird pendulum and I can't keep up.

𖨆♡𖨆 hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ thrown into an arrange marriage with toman’s second man, you slowly come to find that not even your lost memories will stop him from getting what he wants. and what he wants is not you.

cw. amnesia, HEAVY ANGST, adultery, physical abuse (not towards reader), intimidation, alcohol, psychological trauma, illnesses, mentions of pregnancy, explicit smut, tension, mentions of bodily harm, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

╳  playlist                                      ╳ masterlist

#6: you love me but you're hollow (part 1)

Anticipation mingled with dread thrummed hard in his veins.

Wafts of nicotine surrounded him, shrouding half of his face in smoke and filtering around his car like a comforting friend.

Y/N will start her nagging, he thought, stubbing out the stick and maneuvering the steering wheel with one hand past a familiar bend. You never did like the smell of cigarettes and he found himself smoking less and less around you, wanting to not trigger your pout and endless chatterings on how bad these little “cancerous sticks”—as you deemed them—were harmful to his health.

Shuji snorted, a fond smile tugging the corners of his lips.

You could be so adorable that it made him already miss you. If he tilted his head to the side, he could still catch whiffs of your floral Chanel perfume, reminding him of the debauchery you both partook in before he had driven off. 

The journey to downtown Tokyo where flashy skyscrapers made way for modest apartments and run-down buildings took longer than he expected from traffic, and the moment Shuji stopped the car in front of a familiar four-story townhouse, he steeled himself for what he had to do.

There would be little doubt that Ichika would take horribly to the news, but he was ready to face it. Ready to own up to his mistakes. As much as he wished he could have a clean break from her, the reality was not as easy. 

The woman he once called his own was suspected of carrying his child—a combination of him and her deep in her body—that made him turn green around the edges with nausea. Unlike other married men entangled in extraneous affairs, he did not keep a burner phone and resorted to flagrantly flaunting his infidelity anytime he could, and the repercussions would come and bite him back in the ass for not keeping track of his mistress’ cycle. 

Mistress. Funny how a few short weeks can change a man’s mind. Just a month ago, he had vowed to never fall in love you; that his wife was too plain and unassuming to ever capture his attention.

Like the fates themselves were laughing at him, they drew out the most ironic Uno reverse card and made sure that he would eat his own words.

Do not seek me out unless I find you first. 

The memory of his fear when he discovered you missing from the gala’s table, and the subsequent panic he had at the idea that someone could’ve taken you. Shuji had been a fool to dismiss that it was merely his duty to Kisaki that tied him to you and not his latent anxiety that you could’ve gotten hurt.

You are not allowed to kiss me unless I initiate it first to save our face. 

Easily the top five memories to flood his mind would be of your sweet lips on his. How they molded exactly to his shape—the softness of them between his teeth. Your taste heavy on his tongue, like sunshine, honey and something intrinsically intoxicating that was purely you. Shuji was sure that if you took your kisses away from him, he would die like a man who was deprived of oxygen in the form of your breaths shared intimately with his. 

And three… don’t fall in love with me.

An idiot. A pure, unadultered idiot. Everything that he had harshly instructed to you the fateful night of your marriage had turned on its head. Instead of you breaking his rules, he was the first and only one to disobey them. You remained true to his wishes, and suddenly Shuji was afraid.

No… she loves me. His reasoning kicked in. She loves me and I love her. And after I do this, I can finally show her how much I love her. 

In an unhurried gait, the first thing he did was to walk up straight to her unassuming unit, knuckles rapping smartly on the door. The chipped wooden barrier pulled back, and the sight of his ex-mistress on the other end nearly made his resolve falter. Wet, red rimmed eyes and mused hair, misery lining every crevice of her once beautiful face. 

The first time he met her, Ichika reminded him of a famous Japanese actress. Her sweet, congenial smile, sparkling brown eyes and slim nose with her perfect complexion was hard to ignore, even through his fog of alcohol and smoke as he sat with the rest of his underlings to unwind after a hard mission. 

“Hey,” Shuji’s frown carved through her periphery, and a small ball of regret curled itself underneath his ribcage at how exhausted she appeared. 

Listless brown eyes, once sparkling with vitality, flickered slightly. “Hey. Come in.”

Ichika stepped aside, and Hanma entered her apartment for the first and last time, cognizant of the fact that he would never want to step foot back here again if he could help it. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she interjected in a voice hoarse from crying.

 “You’re cruel, you know that, Shuji?” Wrapping her arms around her frail form, she mustered enough vitriol for a glare which did little to shake him. “You’re mean. I hate you.”

At least she’s not hurting me or holding a knife to my neck. Shuji counted his blessings that his mistress was not one for violence, unlike his wife whom he suspected could have a vicious streak if she put her mind to it.

Bowing his head, Shuji recognized how hard this choice was—to let go of the life he previously thought he could live with the woman he once loved. Things have changed, and it was because of you that his eyes were opened wide to the knowledge that if he were to let this affair go on, he would lose out on the best thing he ever had in this life.

“There’s not much I can say besides I’m—”

“Sorry?” Ichika finished for him, a note of sarcasm in her brittle whisper. “You’ve ruined my life for the worst and all you can say is you’re sorry? You disgust me, Shuji.”

He bit down on the words he wanted to hurl towards her, letting her assuage her anger onto his deserving ass. Ichika had every right to rage at him, hit him if it made her happy, and for once in his life, Shuji would let someone else have the upperhand on him if it meant his future with you would be preserved. 

Before the 6’5 man could open his mouth and spare her a few decencies in the form of apologies, her slap richocheted across his face, bringing with it a stinging aftertaste that left him reeling. Golden eyes flashed, but he did not retaliate, passively accepting her rage. Another slap, and this time, the end of her expensive, Tiffany&Co ring he had bought for her months ago, caught into his cheek, leaving a small gash and a bite of pain. Hanma took one step back, jaw tightening, and he was about to speak up when she started sobbing.

“I’ll tell her about us!” 

His heart stopped. Starting back up took some time to gather his composure, and despite his promises that he would end this relationship right here and now, little could actually he followed through once he was faced with the duplicity of her actions.

“What?” his rich and deep voice, always with a note of softness for her was all steel. “What did you fucking say?” 

Ichika faced him with streaming eyes, and she chuckled caustically, the sound verging on mania. “I’ll tell her everything—our affair, the relationship we had before she fucking waltzed into the picture. I’ll tell Tomio. I’ll even tell Kisaki if you don’t fucking own up for your mistake and help me, Shuji.”

Her threats were paper thin at best, but Shuji felt a trickle of unease stir his soul. “Do you know who I am?” Standing to his full height, he sauntered over to her, a terrifying sneer plastered onto his face, and for a split second, a flash of fear eclipsed her expression. That’s right—she had to know her place. “I’m the second most dangerous man in Toman. With one single word, I can end your life right where you stand and bury your body where no else can find you. Do not—”

She screamed in pain when he grasped the base of her throat, almost completely cutting off her air supply, her back hitting the wall. Shuji was merciless when he pressed down on her windpipe, about to crush it when she wheezed out, “I-I’m pregnant.”

Two words, but it was enough to zap him off his murderous intent. He let her go and she slumped onto the floor, gasping loudly, choking on stuttered inhales as she massaged her abused throat. Looking up at him with watery eyes she sniffled, pointing towards the kitchen shelf with a trembling finger. “P-pregnancy test. There. See. For y’self.”

Ichika’s voice was hoarse with unshed tears and panic, and her wide eyes never left his broad back when he unglued his limbs; walking towards the direction she indicated and pulling open the drawer. The pregnancy test was hastily stuffed in between wad of papers, but he could plainly make out those lines that seemed to cut into him like glass. Those two deep lines that hurt more than serrated edges of a knife.

Shuji thought his world would collapse around him, and he had to hold onto the edge of the wooden cabinet to catch his breath. Her quiet sobs pierced through the roaring in his ears, and he lifted his head, the unfair decision he had to make weighing heavily on his shoulders. As much as he wanted to disregard Ichika as merely a mistress, the truth was not as simple. 

She had been with him from the very start—tended to his wounds, shared her laughter and cheer with him, helped him become someone better and she had a right to be angry; it was her perception that you would be reaping the rewards of him being a better man that she worked so hard to instill. Harumi Ichika was once the woman of his dreams, and he could not change that. Just as much as he could not change the softening of his ice-cold heart towards her pitiful cries. 

Her breath caught when she felt his arms around her, and then, the sturdy press of his chest under her cheek. Barely giving any time to gather her wits, Shuji spoke. “I’m sorry. I was too harsh—too cruel. I will take care of you and the baby if you choose to have it. But, I still can’t divorce my wife… you know what’s at stake.”

Ichika could barely believe her plan worked. “Yes,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and thanking every listening deity that Shuji would still be hers. “I know, and I’m sorry. I never meant… I didn’t mean to make you panic.” 

Shuji sighed, and rubbed his large palm up and down her back, soothing her. “I don’t want you to get an abortion. It’s wrong.” Mind foggy with grief and remorse, he fished inside the pocket of his pants, and removed the familiar velvet box. “Here.” 

Her breath hitched when he revealed a simple, pearlescent ring from the inky depths. Taking it out from its swathes of silk, he slipped the too tight circle onto her right ring finger, where it barely fit past her knuckle. A ring for the love of his life adorning the finger of another to appease the horrors he inflicted onto her.

“It says ‘to the love of my life’,” she murmured, turning her hand this way and that to let the ring catch onto snatches of light. “It’s a little too small, but it’s perfect.” 

Her smile brought equal parts relief and grief to him. But, he covered it up with his signature lackaidasal grin, chain earring brushing his cheek when he leaned forward to give her a perfunctory peck on her cheek. “I’m sorry I let my anger get the best of me.”

Ichika shook her head, and though his fingers had dug deep into her skin, there were barely any marks around her neck. His perversion forever hidden from the light. “You’re a fucking menance, Shuji,” her smile fractured slightly in the corners, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He retraced the column of her throat, the warmth of his touch setting off curlicues of yearning straight into her soul. “Shuji, do you love me?” 

Why don’t you ever tell me you love me? 

Unprompted, that morose question in the sweet cadence of your voice flashed through his mind. Rendering him mute with misery. I’m so sorry, Y/N… I’m so weak. 

“Don’t tell her about us,” was his reply to her uncomfortably vulnerable question. “And do not let word of your pregnancy reach others, okay?” Those golden hued orbs took on a sheen of firmness that left her with barely any doubt that Shuji’s hands around her throat was just a precursor to the true punishment should she step out of line. “You know what’s at stake if it does.” 

She swallowed hard. It’s not fair. While Ichika kept him like an oath, he kept her as a secret, never to be seen in broad daylight. Didn’t she always tell herself that the life of a mistress was a sad one? Her luck was that she would never love the man who owned her heart, body and soul no matter how much it pained her that you were in the spot she so rightfully deserved. 

“I’ll be in the city settling business, but I’ll call you when I’m free,” he murmured, giving her a weary smile. 

Idiot. You fucking idiot. 

What kind of man was he that he could not make a decision and choose the woman he loved? Ichika was nothing but a burden to him, and yet, the knowledge that she was carrying his child—willingly wanting to hold onto a piece of him no matter how it hurt her—turned his resolve upside down. I’m a fool.

But, when she nuzzled her face into his neck and wished him a safe drive back, he could do nothing but hope that wherever the pieces fell, it would not crush him. Or, you. 

I’m sorry, Y/N. The ring on her finger shone brightly, a telltale sign of his reluctant commitment to her; one that did not even fit right or sound like the truth when he said, “Take care of yourself.” 

She closed the door on him, departing one last smile, a gracious farewell that he did not deserve. Nor want. A bitter sense of self-loathing washed over him, borne from years of standing by the sidelines as his mother conceived and lost multiple babies; his father’s fists striking her abdomen, the children she cried over. His brothers and sisters who never got a chance to live.

If Ichika wanted to keep the baby and her promise to not expose him, who was he to refuse? 

Especially when the child belonged solely to him—and there was no mistaking that it did. One look into her lacrymose and earnest eyes would tell him enough of the truth. 

Fuck. He was a father. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that it was a smart choice—the humane one—Shuji could not shake off the feeling that what he did would be the last straw that would tilt the scale firmly towards the end of tragedy for his romance story. Firmly lodging itself someplace between foolish hope that you would never find out the truth and the excruciating idea that if you ever did, there was nothing he could do to assuage your righteous anger towards him.

The both of you had entered this world of marriage with a mutual understanding that you would never have his heart because he kept it hidden in the arms of another woman.

And now, there was so much more at stake than where his heart laid.

You. His wife.

Shuji could not afford to fuck up. He would need a solid plan to finally take Ichika out of his life for good. 

Before you would walk out of his life—for good.

You stared at the dimly-lit screen, gnawing on your lower lip. 

The sky was a steel grey, looming with swollen rain clouds. Of all the memories that remained in your fragile mind, the hatred of rain remained your biggest one. You shrank back under the awning of the hospital’s shade, fiddling with your phone. 

Should I call him? 

The scathing inner voice scoffed. And say what? You miss him? You know he’s on a mission so why even bother. 

Standing outside of the hospital, your mind was a million miles away. Shuji would at least text you back to let you know when you could expect him to return but your phone was as silent as a grave. The thoughts would not give you a respite.

What if he’s hurt? Is he bleeding? Oh god—you gripped your phone tighter, stomach churning with anxiety. What if he’s dead?

You don’t get to ruminate on it long before a familiar luxury sedan draws up right in front of you. Echoing a scene from what felt like a lifetime ago, Chifuyu’s grin carved its way into your periphery and you barely had time to greet him when he got out of the car, dapper in a pressed suit and a single gold earring adorning his left lobe.

“Y/N. Hey.”

“Chifuyu,” you smiled, darting your gaze to the darkened interior of his car. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, yeah. Your father can’t come to see you today because some gang issues came up so he asked me to look out for you now that Hanma’s on a mission.” His sincerity left no room for your doubts, low voice a calming timber. Charmingly cocking his head to the side, Chifuyu gestured towards the car. “Do you want to go ahead with the doctor’s appointment or do you want to go out for some ice cream?”

You debated the options you had at your feet. On one hand, your father would be waiting for a progress update even if he couldn’t make it to this appointment—to see if your words rang true and he could rest his worries on the shoulders of a future heir. While on the other hand, dropping your duties for a day of fun with Chifuyu held a mighty appeal, and you waged war internally on these decisions.

Eventually, duty outweighed leisure and you nodded towards the hospital doors. “Will you please accompany me for my checkup?”

Chifuyu did not refuse and gestured for you to lead the way.

Inside the fluorescent office, the smell of bleach and antiseptic stung, and you had to breathe slowly to not trigger the sudden, irrational wave of nausea. Second to rain, you hated hospitals with a passion, their sterile and rigid walls too constricting and overbearing for someone of your timidity. 

The doctor stepped in after a few minutes, her kindly smile unwavering as she inquired about your health. You did your best to tell her the truth; how you were more tired lately and attributed it to your amnesia, the ache in your joints and the unpredictability of your sleep schedule. She jotted it down, and because Chifuyu was most likely aware of your situation after the fiasco at the L/N mansion, you made sure to meekly tell her you suspected you were pregnant.

It didn’t fully sink in to you how dangerous it was to play with Tomio’s trust and lead him on until the cool gel was smeared onto your belly. The silence highlighted your heavy breathing, and Chifuyu’s eyes on you were not helping your nerves in the least. You gulped down on your fear, mind racing a mile a minute.

What would you tell your father when the results came back and you did not have his heir?

Your death was signed on the dotted line with red ink, if that were the case. L/N Tomio would never forgive you and the punishment he held over your head would be multiplied by tenfold. You clutched the blanket tightly, eyes never leaving the grainy screen.

Intermittently, you would flicker your gaze towards the preoccupied doctor, trying to catalogue any change of emotion on her stony countenance. 

She flicked a switch and the room went silent. 

Anytime now, your sentence would be announced and you would have to face an even larger retribution. Chifuyu’s face was like the older doctor’s—solemn and unmoving. Waiting for the truth. 

Would he rat you out to Tomio? 

Would this man you thought of as a friend leak out your deepest secret to someone who had the power to hurt you? 

Your heart clenched and you almost choked on your spit. What would happen to Shuji? Your mind fell into a trap of fear and panic, inner turmoil loudly clanging for attention as you remained mute with apprehension. It was certain he would lose more than just four fingers—your husband may lose his whole hand and Kisaki’s trust. Toman’s support for him would be shaky at best, and he would fall from grace all because of your grave mistake in blurting out stupid, stupid lies—

A swooping sound filled your ringing ears. Loud and alien-like, it reminded you of holding your head for too long underwater till only your heartbeat was pounding in the forefront of your senses. You had no idea what that foreign noise was. 

“Oh. Hmm. Just as I thought. Well, Mrs. Hanma, it turns out there’s a huge reason for your sickness and fatigue… though I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you twice.”

The heavy pressure in the room lessened. Your chest, however, remained tight.

The curl of your tongue felt like it was caught on the roof of your mouth. You could barely speak; your thoughts colliding into a disbelieving stupor. This cannot be true. 

The world spun completely off its axis. You catalogued the doctor’s warm smile; the sound of Chifuyu’s short chuckle shattered in your mind like an interrupted melody. 

A shaky breath stumbled past your frozen lips, your mind fully blanking and not registering her next words. 

“Congratulations, Mrs. Hanma,” the doctor gestured to the screen and gave you a warm smile that did not touch your soul. 

“You’re four weeks pregnant.”

Ichika stared at the pile of paperwork, her mind a million miles away.

Ever since Shuji had left her apartment to be with you, her entire welfare was a mess; bags weighed heavily underneath her eyes, her lips were constantly drawn into a frown and there was something lackluster about her whole countenance. 

People were noticing—as they always did—and imparted some kindly concern for her wellbeing.

Are you sleeping enough, Ichika-chan? 

You should go and see a doctor.

Please drink more water. 

A hand slammed onto the desk, and she jolted, scrambling up from her seat to hastily bow when she noticed who it was. Kisaki’s beady eyes were narrowed, as if he were trying to examine her entire form with x-ray goggles. 

“Sir?” 

“I need you to schedule me this meeting with some Blood Phoenixes investors,” he paused, raking his eyes up and down her form. “You look terrible. Please fix yourself up; you’re the front receptionist for fuck’s sake.”

She bowed low, waiting for him to depart. He left her alone to her simmering thoughts, and she bit on her lower lip. 

As if her day could not get any worse, you arrived. 

Instantly, everyone shot up from their work desks, bowing low much to your quiet chagrin and you greeted them with polite nods and a soft good morning. 

Fucking bitch. Ickika put on a smile, bowing low the moment you approached the front desk. Your entire outfit put together would’ve cost her a week’s worth of rent, and she eyed the YSL coat hanging off your shoulders and how your milky pink gel manicured nails were nervously twisting your golden watch. 

“I’m sorry if this is so sudden, but is Shuji here? I need to speak to him.”

Before Ichika could open her mouth, Kisaki’s voice rebounded across the floor. “Y/N! Good to see you here.” The yakuza leader sauntered over to you, hands in his pockets and a faint smile on his odious face. “I’ll take over from here,” he announced to the other receptionists and Ichika bowed low once more for the both of you. 

You were ushered away by Toman’s top brass in a matter of seconds, away from the brunette’s fallen expression. 

“You look well,” Kisaki praised you loudly. “And you’re glowing, too. Shuji must be treating you right, huh?” 

Glowing. Ichika’s stomach turned. It reminded her of the predicament she put herself in. Speak of the devil. Her phone vibrated and she read his message in one quick glance. 

My Shuji 🖤: We need to get you to the doctor. I have to see how far along you are.

The pretty secretary clicked her phone shut, running a hand down her face. Exhaustion was spelled out on every crevice of her countenance, and she almost did not hear someone speaking to her.

“Ichika-chan, do you have the—are you alright?” 

She wanted to open her eyes and retort, but a chilling voice spoke again. Your presence back to haunt her. 

“Could you please speak to Shuji-san and free up his time later this afternoon?” Despite her reservations, Ichika got up and bowed uneasily to you.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but Shuj—Hanma-san—” she corrected herself quickly, “—Is on a mission right now.”

Her little blip drew your complete silence. Mari, the new receptionist, had also overheard her slip of tongue and stared wide-eyed at the two women. Tension swirled around both your forms, thick enough that one could slice it through with a butter knife. The look on your face was easy enough to decipher. Since when is this woman so casually acquainted with my husband to use his real name?

Ichika rushed to cover her tracks. “My apologies for appearing so casual, ma’am,” she bowed deeply again and straightened. “I have worked with Hanma-san for a few years now, but that is no excuse for me to refer to him in such an easy way. Please, forgive me for any misunderstandings.”

You took a second to let her explanation sink in. Softening, you nodded. “It is not an issue.”

Stupid bitch. Ichika kept her smile plastered on though her thoughts were swimming with vitriol. 

“Regardless, do let Hanma-san know that I requested him urgently, thank you.” You turned on your back, red-bottomed heels clacking on the floor. Rushes of clothes and loud scraping sounds from chairs pushing back hastily greeted your departing figure, every Tamakaro employee bowing in your direction until the elevator doors closed on you.

“Y/N-san is so nice,” Mari enthused, the moment Ichika sat back down. Leaning forward as if to conspire with her, the air-headed receptionist bubbled, “I heard how smitten Hanma-san is with her. They just recently got back from Kanagawa and she’s glowing. Rumors are going around that she’s pregnant.”

Ichika’s heart dropped right to her ass. 

Pregnant? Her entire expression was leached of color and Mari noticed. “I-Ichika-chan. Are you alright—”

“Cover for me,” she briskly stood up, gripping her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. “I need to check on something, okay?” 

“Ichika—”

The brunette did not heed her cries. Spinning on her heel, she shot a quick text to Shuji, calling for the elevator.

Can we do it another day? I’m not feeling so good.

Stepping into the enclosed space, she waited until the doors closed before sagging against the cool wall. 

There was no denying what her two eyes saw. The lustrous color of your hair, the health on your cheeks and the shine of your smile spoke volumes to how well her boyfriend was treating you. 

Ichika had suspected for a while that a shift had taken place in your marriage, though she was hesitant to bring this up with Shuji. What could she say? Whatever Shuji did with you behind closed doors was none of her business—no matter how much her heart was bleeding for it to be concerning her.

Some nights, she fell asleep thinking about how different life would be if she was truly carrying his child. Ichika had seen it in how Shuji’s eyes softened at the idea of having a family. The silent yearning that stretched from the tips of his long fingers that rubbed the soft of her belly hours after he had nearly strangled her, in quiet awe of the perceived life he cultivated in another woman’s body. He would have made a great father to her babies.

The pretty secretary swallowed down on her tears, cursing your name again. Why couldn’t she be someone of your power and status? Why did fate have to dole out an unfair hand just for the pleasure of watching her struggle every single day for recognition—for a place to lay her head and find a nook of belonging? You must know how much you ruined her life. You must know that.

And once again, fate taunted her with the life she could not have when she ran into Shuji himself in the main lobby, just minutes after you had left.  

Ichika still had a part to play in front of society and Kisaki’s people, despite her current status as Shuji’s mistress. Though the entire office floor probably knew of their affairs, as judging from their open mouth gapes at Toman’s second striding purposefully towards her, they dared not raise a single complaint or suggestion. 

The hand tattooed with ‘Sin’ gripped her free hand, and he bent forward, expression unreadable. “Follow me. Now.” 

This was out of line for Shuji’s character. The man who insisted they never interact in broad daylight was cocking his eyebrow in her direction, obstinately waiting for her to respond to his instruction. Looking for the world, completely familiar with her when they were not supposed to have any other relationship beyond the stipulated boss-employee one. 

She cast a look towards a bellboy hovering at the side, who was steadfastly staring at the grainy patterns of a painting hanging on the opposite wall, trying to seem inconspicuous. Cowards. Was there no decent person she could rely upon within this miserable organization? 

“Sir—” she pried her hand back from his grasp, smoothing the front of her skirt with a palpable nervous unease. “May I ask where we’re going?” 

In answer, Shuji shot his brilliant golden gaze onto the poor minimum wage worker, who visibly shrunk away from the tenacity of his unbridled anger. “Tell whoever the fuck runs the day-to-day operations that I have business with Miss Harumi.”

The greasy-haired man was all too eager to remove the force of his almost mythical superior’s stare upon him and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir.”

I am dead. Ichika had never hated the universe with such vitriol like she did in this instance.

This grotesque, emotionally exhausting game of Russian Roulette that she willingly participated in had brought the smoking gun closer and closer toward her direction after every agonizing round. Your accident. The gala. Shuji’s fallout with your father. Kanagawa. 

The smell of blood and rusty tang in the air was too hard to ignore with the gun getting closer towards her vulnerable forehead. 

Many fearsome men perceived Hanma Shuji to be an emotionless menace; hell bent on destroying the world from top to bottom if it meant he could savour the thrill of it as it fell into ashes around him. 

But, the real Hanma—the one that Ichika was intimately acquainted with—was more nuanced than they gave him credit for. Hanma Shuji would kill, maim and torment if it served the right person.

Where does his real allegiance lie? The woman who had warmed his bed for months even during his marriage—the one he told he would not live without in a drunken stupor after his marriage to you was announced—was not able to read his mind. 

Twisted as it was, Ichika wanted to goad Shuji. Push him to answer the real questions that seized her mind unfairly every single night.

Do you love me? 

Do you love her? 

Who do you love? 

Instead, she kept her peace and stood up. Following Shuji towards the elevator, not even a single gust of breath could be heard in the vicinity. Every eye was on them—wide gazes, parted mouths. It was like they were witnessing a god and mortal interact for the first time. And wouldn’t it be similar, Ichika thought humorlessly. Hanma was far more important compared to her, and for him to taint his presence with the likes of her outside of the bedroom—outside of her apartment—spoke intense volumes towards his headspace.

Like a lamb cajoled straight to the slaughterhouse, she obediently followed him down the well-worn pathway. Only when he led her to the hotel’s premium parking did she get antsy.

“Shu, where are we going?” 

His answer was pulling open the passenger door for her. Despite every nerve screaming in the young woman’s mind to not blindly follow him down a trail she was not familiar with, there was nothing she could do to defy him. Shuji would just take what he wanted—never caring for her concerns or hesitations.

Hanma slammed the door of his Spyder shut when he slid into the driver's seat, jaw taut and knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I need you to be truthful with me.”

The anger dancing in his tone was what made her stop short, every excuse and justification she wanted to spill out coming to a screeching halt. 

Shuji flickered his golden eyes to her, not giving her a moment to prepare herself for the blow his next question left on her heart. 

“Are you pregnant with another man’s child?” 

Ichika felt like someone reached right into the cavern of her bleeding heart and squeezed it in a death grip. “N-no,” she murmured, unable to keep steady eye contact with her. “It’s yours.” 

Never mind that her womb was empty of his seed. Never mind that she was spewing out lie after lie. What mattered was that she would still have him by the end of the day.

Shuji closed his eyes, momentarily leaving her stunned and uneasy from his countenance. 

“Baby. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?” 

Again, silence greeted her. The sportscar lurched out from its bay and she scrambled to put on her seatbelt before the unthinkable could happen. Her lover was not in the right state of mind, as evident when he pushed the speedometer to a 120mph on a relatively busy highway. Ichika conspicuously removed her phone, but Hanma’s hand on her thigh stilled her.

“Forget it,” his jaw ticked. “Don’t even think of calling someone right now. We’re heading to the hospital.”

What defines true fear? 

Was it staring into the mouth of the beast? Or having the nozzle of a gun that was sure to go off trailing right in front of your face? 

Many people would say they were intrinsically scared of heights or spiders which remained the natural order of the world—for humans to be terrified of the things that they could not control, as irrational as it was. 

Ichika thought she might’ve developed a fear for flashing lights over gold surfaces. It reminded her too much of the anger in Shuji’s eyes when he finally lifted his gaze from her and onto the road ahead.

“Shu—”

“Don’t speak until I get the doctor’s confirmation.” The shocking aureate gleam stunned her into a disquiet. “I want to know if you’re telling me the truth.” 

And so, she didn’t. Glueing her mouth shut from the despairing words she wanted to convey, Ichika remained as deadened as a statue beside him; going through the motions of entering antiseptic smelling halls, past friendly nurses and through hospital screens.

She couldn’t run. Nor, did she sense Shuji would let her.

He played the part of her concerned lover well. Intermittently, he would reach for her hand, squeezing it in a way that appeared heartfelt enough for the elderly doctor to treat them but only she could tell how much her knuckles were starting to hurt from his bruising grip. She was one of the best in the district, as far as Shuji could tell. Every expectant wife of an important man went to her. Soon, Y/N will, too, was what Shuji was probably thinking. 

God, even in a time like this, she could not shake off her hatred for you. 

Though the doctor’s smile faltered when she saw his name listed next to Ichika’s in the report, she resumed her professional countenance as if nothing was amiss.

“So, Mrs…”

“—Hanma.” Ichika interrupted and took a deep breath. “I’m Mrs. Hanma.”

She did not dare look at Shuji’s face less she chicken out and admit to this clueless third party her entire ploy for wrecking his marriage. The corner of the doctor’s lips twitched—and was it her bad hearing or did the older woman mutter the word ploygamy underneath her breath? 

Strange. 

Ichika remained rooted to the plush medical chair, unable to stop the trained OBGYN from spreading the cool gel across her belly. Or, to control whether Shuji was staring intently at the monitor screen, trying to pick up on the thread of lies she weaved around her unfortunate form. 

Suddenly, the fear of flashing gold surfaces played behind her closed lids. 

Time froze. The progressive echoing silence in the room could’ve shattered her ears.

“I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Hanma. But, the scans are coming back empty.” 

Ichika swore she heard Shuji’s patience and civility snap.

The older woman trailed her uncertain expression towards her livid “husband” who did not hide his fury at her insolence, gnashing his jaw and shaking his head. Pure rage seeped onto his delicate features, a promise of retribution the moment they were free from the presence of passerbys. 

Her fingers had lost their feeling, breath lodged in her throat. The lack of air struck her with dizzying speed.  

The old hag is gloating at me, poisonous fumes laced her thoughts. She is thrilled that my boyfriend wants to kill me. 

Whatever else could such a vile woman be thinking when instead of offering condolences, her fushia-tinted lips tightened into a line and she uttered: 

“I’m sorry to get yours and your husband’s hopes up…” At least the bitch had some sincerity to hesitate, though her next words left little to be relieved over. 

“But you’re not pregnant, Mrs. Hanma.”

“Watch out, mama,” Chifuyu scolded, grabbing onto your hand to steady you from side-stepping off the curb.

Your giggles rebounded back in bright peals, a silly smile on your face, and his strict facade fractured. “Hey, guzzler. Quit acting like you’re dancing on the moon.”

“I could be,” you retorted back, giving him a smile that unwittingly brought heat suffusing across his face. He coughed and darted his eyes away from your shimmering figure, preferring to stare at his dress shoes. 

Gruffly, he crossed his arms. “I just don’t want to explain to Shuji if you break something.”

“I won’t!” you enthused, crossing your heart like a schoolgirl making a promise for the first time, your smile deepening. “I swear.” 

The corners of his lips twitched and he ran a hand through his dark hair, stopping short of his undercut. Faraway, somewhere in your mind, you realized you were acting like a child in front of  a member of Toman and instantly sobered, not wanting him to judge you wrongly. But, Chifuyu did not utter a disparaging remark, understanding the apex of your happiness.

“Are you telling him?” 

You nodded emphatically. The shine of your features, the curve of your eyebrows rising put the bright sun and cloudless blue sky to shame. Glowing in your effervescent light, Chifuyu was the poor, stunned soul who bore witness to your bubbling nod. “Of course. My husband will be so happy.” 

A flicker of darkness rolled over those crystal eyes, though it disappeared when you availed to look closer. “Oh, yeah. Hanma-san has always wanted a child.” 

The bitter afternote in his tone went by unnoticed and you chuckled, reaching froward boldly and squeezing his shoulder. In your most serious tone, you departed your next words, the hint of warning underneath them hard to miss. “Matsuno Chifuyu. Do not tell him first, alright? This good news needs to come from me.” 

Wide-eyed, Chifuyu took a half-step back. “S-sure. Of course. I would never dream of it.”

Unaffected by the tremor of his disturbance, you dropped your hand, resuming your carefree disposition once again. The Toman founder drove you home after stopping by for ice-cream, the both of you speaking about mundane niceties while such simmering happiness you harbored in the OGBYN’s room buoyed you back into the penthouse as if you were floating on air. You discarded your heels in favour for comfortable house shoes, musing that in a few months time, you would not be able to carry yourself on those spine-thin shoes anymore.

Stomach rumbling, you reached for a chipped pot and Shuji’s secret stash of Mac & Cheese, drooling when the smell from the neon yellow artificial goop reached your nose. You ate as you danced around the penthouse, filling your tummy and soul with more happiness as you patiently waited for Shuji to come home. 

He should be here any second. 

His name rang in your mind, and the threads that bound you to his soul tugged with fierce yearning. As if summoned by you, your phone rang, and your husband’s name was a welcome respite. 

“Hello?” you answered after the first ring.

“Baby.” The grey from cumulonimbus clouds which stood a little far off to your persistent excitement parted, revealing the severity of how deeply you had missed Shuji. “You good?” 

“Shu!” you set the bowl of coagulated pasta and cheese down, gnawing on your bottom lip like a schoolgirl giddily speaking to her crush. “I miss you. When are you coming home?”

“Soon, doll, soon,” he chuckled. “I just have some unfinished business to wrap up then I’m going to bend you over the sofa and make you scream my name til’ you’re hoarse.”

Oh. You shifted from one foot to another, suddenly hot under the collar from your husband’s blatant filthy intentions. “Then, come home soon,” you flashed your eyes to the clock above the kitchen counter and in a voice barely above a whisper, you murmured, “I could really use a good scream.” 

Hanma paused, his silence stretched across the line. You pressed the phone harder to your ear, fighting off a grin. “Fuck. G’na have to stuff your pretty pussy soon, baby. Wait for me on the bed. Don’t even think of putting on a single stitch of clothing. I’m on my way home now.”

Your heart lurched, and you breathed out a yes, daddy knowing how easy it was to rile him up when that term left your loose lips. So intimately acquainted were you with Shuji’s reaction that you could predict the sharp gasp that reverberated across the call.

“You’re in so much trouble, princess.”

In a whisper of a teasing tone, you murmured, “I’m counting on it, my love.” 

His warm chuckle resounded that made you wish he were right here so you could plant endless kisses onto his sweet face. 

“I love you.” 

You softened at the inflection of tenderness in his voice. “I love you, too.” 

Ending the call, you perked up, and tentatively wrapped a hand around your belly, smiling wide. “I can’t wait for you to say ‘hello’ to your daddy, my little bean.”

The apples of your cheeks were starting to hurt, but you didn’t mind. Pain that was born from felicitous joy was preferable than trauma. You had never felt this free and happy before, and you danced around the penthouse, cleaning yourself up from the day and doing as Shuji said, waiting for him on the large, California King bed with just your perfume on, nervously counting down the minutes til he would be home.

At seven sharp, you heard the door downstairs opening. Heart in your throat, you arranged yourself atop the blankets, adjusting your diamond necklace and hair so it fell in more natural lines down your body which complimented your brazen, seductive position. Shuji’s heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs, every staccato beat bumping up your heart rate. It ceased right in front of your bedroom door. 

Biting on your lower lip to stop a smile from spreading, your efforts were futile when you heard his shaky breath. The door fell open, and Shuji’s familiar, dear face spread into a soft smile.

“Doll.” 

Like two jagged pieces reuniting once more, he fell into your arms, and you welcomed him into your embrace, inhaling his kisses with such desperation it would’ve been shameful if it was anybody else but your beloved husband who was here to witness it.

Shuji himself was barely composed. He nipped your lower lip, running his large hands up and down your bare back, his movements more tender than salacious as you wanted to believe. There was a gentleness that could not be denied when he breathed you in. The setting sun threw his amber eyes into a brilliant disarray, those sharp lines and bold smile touched with softness around the edges, filled with nothing but devotion when he spread your legs wider and settled in between them.

You did not get to mutter a single word, not when Shuji was stealing your every breath and half-formed sentence, determined to have his fill of you. The sound of metal clinking and falling to the floor, the rush of his clothes melting off his lean and toned body until summer warm skin was pressed to yours; his defined lines complimenting your soft curves. 

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips. The sky outside could break into pieces and seas could take Tokyo under its rifts, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not when his lips would not leave yours, his palms cradling your face like you were something delicate—something to be cherished.

You forced your lips to move, needing to convey the same level of desperation to show your equal devotion. “I missed you, too. I missed you so much, Shuji.”

The world tilted for a split second before you were upright once more, straddling his thighs. Strands of fluffy black-blonde hair fell in his face like dreamy waves, and you were entranced by the striking angularity and tenderness that co-mingled in such harmony on a face you loved with every fiber of your being. Your husband, your sweetheart. Your Shuji.

Would your baby have his eyes? Would they have his mischievous smirk—the same one on his face when you obediently lifted your hips and sank on his cock? They would have his smile, you were sure. You brought his hand up to rest on your belly, ‘sin’ starkly standing out on the soft planes of your curves, right where his baby was growing deep in you. 

 “Can feel you here,” your strained whisper had a double meaning. “You’re so deep in me.”

Shuji exhaled a laugh. “Yeah? I can go deeper—” a sharp thrust of his hips that caught your golden spot, making you gasp and toss your head back. Using your distractedness as a leverage, your husband started snapping his hips, taking pure glee in how your mouth fell open in an ‘O’ and there were already tears glossing in your eyes. You could do nothing but hold on as your husband set a brutal pace that had you clasping onto his shoulders for dear life.

He easily manoeuvred you into the seat of his lap, bouncing you up and down his thick cock and coaxing more of those sweet moans to spill from your slack mouth. Those large palms steadied your back from tilting behind, and your tangled fingers in his hair drew his amusement, especially when you tugged at the roots, face screwing up in pleasure.

“I’m g’na go bald because of you, baby,” he muttered, playfully biting your chin. “Tugging on my hair with that grip of yours.” 

Despite the deepened twining of your bodies, you exhaled a giggle, and Shuji’s gaze faltered. How could a heart like yours ever love one so corroded and evil like his? 

As if you sucked in the rays of the setting sun, your skin and hair shone, and Shuji thought there was little that could detract him from seeing you as nothing short of a goddess. 

His lips tangled with yours, the same moment your hips buckled and you released a short squeak—a telltale sign you were on the edge. I need to feel her cum. Shuji slotted a hand between your bodies, letting you grind your aching clit on his fingers as your movements stuttered and faltered.

“S-Shu—oh!” 

You bit down on his shoulder, riding out your orgasm, muffled moans of his name reaching his heated ears. God, he had been so blind. How did it take an impending tragedy to open his eyes to how much he needed you?

If he imagined a life without you—your sweet smile, your crinkled eyes, the innocent and open way you loved without conditions—Shuji thought he could cry. 

“I love you.” How paltry. Those three words could barely encompass his whole feelings, but it was worth a shot. “I love you. You know that right, Y/N?” 

You nodded in your fucked-out haze, pinning your swimming eyes on him. He picked up your hand, pressing a kiss to your wedding ring, the same one that was a twin design on his own finger. A silver band, simple and sturdy in both its strength of joining the two of you together for years to come. 

A life to be truly free with you.

Shuji kissed your hard as he came, his hips stuttering and drawing out another smaller release from you; both your bodies falling onto the bed while you perched two hands on his chest, riding out your second orgasm to fulfilment before your strength disappeared. You fell into his waiting embrace. Short, labored breaths were loud in the room; strong arms vining around your fragile frame, holding you close to his heart.

It was the perfect time. 

“Shu?” your soft voice knocked him back to reality and he hummed, kissing your sweaty forehead.

“Yeah, doll?” 

You nuzzled the warm, golden skin just right above the tattoo dedicated to his mother, sighing in contentment. “Y’know when you told me to call you daddy? Mhm… s’turns out you’re right. You’re gonna be a real daddy soon.” 

Shuji froze for a split second, and he lifted your sleepy face up, searching your expression for a shred of a lie. “Doll? Are you serious?” 

There was not a single line of duplicity in your sweet, glowing countenance. The truth screamed loudly from every loving pore of your body. “Yes.” Taking his hand once more and pressing it to your belly, you sighed in contentment. “The OBGYN at St. Luke’s confirmed it. We’re gonna be parents.”

A choked sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. Shuji wrapped his arms around you, and drew you impossibly close to heart, your entire body flush with his. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing your hair and your forehead. “I love you. I am so happy.”

You dared not shatter the peace, wide-eyed at his exuberant reaction. “Y-you are?” 

“I am,” he hummed, massaging your hip to show you how earnest he was. “I am so happy. I want to do this with you, doll.” 

A weight you had not noticed on your shoulders lifted. You could breathe easier. “I thought you would be angry.”

“Angry? Never. I would never be angry at you, doll.”

“Oh,” you deflated and shot him a brilliant smile. “I must admit, I didn’t know I was pregnant. It’s not like I was having the normal symptoms.” 

He eased out from your embrace shortly to scoot down and kiss your belly. “Hey, you little nuisance. How come you’re so quiet, hmm? Your mommy barely felt anything.”

You laughed at his mock teasing tone, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair. He’s already playing the part of a goofy daddy. “I did feel a little nauseous during Kanagawa, but I thought it was because of the sea air.” 

Shuji hummed, kissing your soft curves once more, making you giggle. “Any cravings, my love?” 

Thinking hard, you purse your lips. “I guess… Mac ‘n’ Cheese.”

If a laugh could embody such warmth, it would be Shuji’s short burst of a giggle. “Shit, I should’ve known. I’ll take you to Italy one day for a family trip so you can have the best Western food there, baby. It’ll just be us and our lil’ troublemaker.” His voice caught and you were quick enough to catch him wiping a tear away. “Fuck. I can’t believe that we’re doing this. I can’t believe we’re parents now.” 

Something about the split faltering of his emotions made you hold his face, nudging him up so you could look him in his red-rimmed eyes. The pads of your thumb smoothed his cheekbones, and you were staring at him with such tenderness and love, that Shuji swore he was a hair’s breadth away from telling you the entire truth. 

But, his tongue caught and his wide eyes studied how you traced the curve of his lip, your own eyes hazy and lovestruck. “You’re the only man I trust, you know that, Shuji?” Your words, innocent and soft spoken, cut him like a knife. “I’m so blessed to have you as my husband.” 

You met his gaze, flooring him with how open and honest your expression was. 

“From now on, it’ll just be me, you and our little bean.”

Shuji’s heart churned with guilt like the black waves of an uneasy sea about to encounter a huge thunderstorm. The curve of your brow, the lift of your smile, it made him question every single action he had committed, the horror he put you through and how you could forgive him so easily. 

Ichika… he had to end it with her. At first, he had his hands tied in making a choice, but now, it could not be any clearer.

Shuji wanted you. He wanted a family with you.

He had made his decision.

“Yes,” he murmured, wishing with all his heart that he could rewrite his past and give himself a chance to fall in love with you the right way. Without causing you pain, hurt or despair. 

He wanted nothing more than to start anew, past these treacherous mountains that constantly loomed in his mind’s eye to the sufferings he piled on you. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. Let me fix this… once and for all. 

“Yes,” Shuji’s voice almost broke off at the end. “It’s just going to be us and our little baby from now on.”

Ever since you had made the announcement to your husband and showed him the soft copy of your ultrasound scan, his whole demeanor shifted implicitly. 

He was clingier. More caring.

It was a stark change to how he had first treated you after your accident. 

Little by little, you noticed it in his gestures; the boxes of Mac ‘n’ Cheese placed on a lower shelf so you didn’t have to climb up the kitchen counter to get it, more vegetables in the chiller, and nausea pills popping up beside the porcelain bathtub, on your side table and even in your purse as the symptoms progressed. As if your little bean was waiting for the world to acknowledge him or her before making a huge splash, the signs of pregnancy started getting worse.

You couldn’t even lie in bed for more than five minutes without bolting to the toilet, heaving down last night’s dinner. Through it all, Shuji was there for you, holding your hair back, and whispering words of encouragement. 

“So beautiful,” he would murmur while holding your exhausted body close to his, never mind that you had puked your entire breakfast up again just an hour ago. “You’re so beautiful and strong, my darling.”

Where once you would not even see your husband for hours on end, he was home more often. If he had work to do, he would send one of his trusted men to watch over you while he handled Toman’s affairs for Kisaki, always with the promise that he would come home safe and sound.

One day, you reached for his hand before the door could close, a tremor in your lower lip. Another mood swing. Shuji was cognizant of your shifting emotions like a pendulum, and rather than making fun of you like you believed he would, your husband would calm you down with a soft touch, a reassuring word. “I’ll come home at seven today and make you some sukiyaki. The one without mirin. Okay?” 

He kissed the top of your head and you sniffled, tears rushing down your face. “I-I know. But, I-I can’t help and worry, Shu. It’s so dangerous out there.”

His arms tightened around you. Just a few days ago, you received news that one of your father’s warehouses was raided by the police and they brought in a few of the Blood Phoenixes underlings. Luckily, those poor men were not top brass, and they were imprisoned for two years with the reality that once they were released, they had to resume their duties to your father again. 

“I’ll make today quick, doll. Okay? Tonight, I wanna cuddle you to death.” If any outsider were to see the Hanma Shuji pucker his lips and make a kissy face at you until you laughed, they would consider if their morning coffee was spiked with a hallucinogen. But, Shuji did just that and you pushed his face away, giggling softly. 

“Okay. Okay. Come home soon, yeah?” 

He nodded, and got onto one knee, levelling his face with your belly. “Daddy has to go to work now, but you take care of mommy, okay? I love you both so, so, so much!” he giggled, leaving loud, theatrical kisses on your relatively flat belly that tickled. “Mwah, mwah, mwah.” Shuji rose to his feet and leaned down to peck your parted lips for one last time. “And for mommy—mwah. I love you.” 

Your cheeks were warm and you batted his shoulder, biting down on a brilliant grin. “Go, you menace. Kisaki will scold you if you show up late.”

He gave you one last smile and you closed the door behind him with a wave. 

Menace. You patted your belly, loving how soft it felt underneath your palm, as if your body was preparing to make itself the most comfortable stay for your little bean. You sighed happily and proceeded to rest on the couch. Ever since you had told Shuji about your pregnancy, he was adamant on not having you up on your feet for too long. 

Meal times were relegated to the chefs preparing fresh food for you, healthy breakfasts became the norm though you were allowed to indulge in Mac ‘n’ Cheese once in awhile to satiate your cravings. “Your daddy is an evil man,” you fondly muttered to your belly. “He won’t even let me eat a whole pack of chocolate chip cookies. Says I can only have five—max. Do you agree that he’s so wicked, Shusei?”

You had no idea when you started giving your baby that name, but it made sense. It held a piece of Shuji in it and the whole meaning of ‘Shusei’ was “soul-bond”. This baby was the bridge between you and Shuji—a child once made from convenience and now fostered with love. A perfect choice. 

The doorbell rang, and you stood back up to get it, thinking it was one of the chefs. But, when it swung open, you were momentarily stunned to find Chifuyu on the other end.

“Hey, Guzzler. Looking glowy.” 

“Fuyu,” your shock melted into friendly delight. “Hey. What’re you doing here?” 

“Shuji-san sent me to watch over you today. Iroto is overseeing a warehouse delivery.” 

You welcomed your friend in, and he swiveled around to take in your space. “Nice crib. Shuji designed it?” Your mouth opened to answer, but you found you could not remember. Whose house was this, anyway? You had no idea if the modernist greys and sleek whites were from your designing touches or Shuji’s and you clamped up, unsure of what to say.

Chifuyu noticed your silence, and he nudged you gently. “Hey, you good? You zoned out there for a bit.”

“I… I don’t remember,” you murmured, suddenly embarrassed. “Most of my memories are still not back.”

Hearing that, the dark-haired Toman member frowned. “But, it’s been months. Surely you can remember some things?”

You rummaged in the fault of your memories and came back empty, besides a few impressions and still images that did not make sense in the whole picture. “I can remember my home. My father’s house, I mean. The coordinates. Um, some bits about the lessons I had before I married. Mostly my tou-san and snippets of some men who were always at our house. I… I’m still drawing a blank on Shuji, though.”

Something perturbed the other man. You could tell. His jaw ticked and he darted his gaze away. “Maybe it’s best if you don’t remember.” 

That got your attention. You wanted to ask him what he meant when Chifuyu’s phone beeped, and he fished it from his pocket, frowning at the screen. “Hey. Sorry about this. I know I just arrived, but there’s an emergency down in Odaiba. Something about a potential police raid.” Your face blanched. Shuji.

Gathering your composure, you nodded. “Of course. You go ahead. I’ll lock up and tell Shuji what happened.”

Chifuyu grimaced, raking his eyes up and down your form. “It may take a few days for us to settle this. You sure you’ll be okay? Shuji may not be home for close to a week.”

Your heart fell right into your stomach, but you were trained to never show emotions so readily on your face. Instead, you hid your concern and disappointment at not seeing your husband for a considerable time behind a neutral smile. “I’ll be fine, Chifuyu. It’s only a few short days. Tell Shuji I’ll be okay and that I can handle myself.”

His crystal eyes flashed, and you could hear the cogs in his head turning. “In any case, the only ones to know of your pregnancy is me, Shuji and your father’s closest men. No one knows just yet—not even Kisaki. Stay safe, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.” 

Chifuyu left, taking with you the last shred of your composure which disintegrated the moment the door closed. The tears you held back—the concern you had for your husband—drip down your cheeks. 

Never would you have anticipated to feel such worry over your husband. It was not just the fact that he could be hurt, but you had another factor to add into the mix now. Your baby. I couldn't live with myself if Shuji got hurt and Shusei did not have a father. You ardently wished history would not repeat itself. All you wanted was to make sure your beloved baby got the love he or she deserved from two present, well-adjusted parents. 

Something you never did have. Something Shuji did not have. 

Everything you hoped your sweet child would have so readily, without needing to fight for it. 

Shuji… please, be safe. You started to sob quietly. Come back home to me and Shusei soon. 

“It’s over.”

For the second time in a few weeks, Shuji was trying to break it off with Ichika. The other woman was not crying or sobbing as she did the last time she found herself in the same predicament. 

Her brown eyes were crystal clear and her countenance free of clouds, Ichika looked more… refreshed. As if she did not lie to the second most notorious man in Japan. As if she did not try to deceive him and ruin his marriage with his beloved wife. Shuji mimicked her cool facade and lifted a brow. “Well, that was easy. You can keep everything I’ve gifted you… or not. Whatever you want to do. But, it’s over, Ichika. Y/N is the one I want.”

The tiniest of fissures cracked across on her porcelain perfect face. “Even the diamond necklace?” 

Honestly, Shuji could not give a damn about whatever bits and bobs he had bought for her in the heat of the moment. All he wanted was to wrap this up and return to your side to care for you and the baby. In answer to her ludicrous question, he shrugged. “Sure. Up to you.” 

When Ichika did not reply, Shuji paused. Taking in her countenance. Harumi Ichika was a beautiful woman; there would be little doubt that another man would take a fancy to her and fill in his shoes. If she played her cards right, she may even end up with someone with deeper pockets. It was the least he could wish for his ex-girlfriend in hopes to assuage his guilt for destroying her. 

“Well… I guess this is it. Have a good life, Ichika.”

He made to turn, but her soft voice stopped him. “At least tell me why you’re leaving me so cruelly.” Her voice tremored and he mentalluy cringed. Please, don’t make her throw a fit right here. 

Shuji didn’t bother turning around to face her. Partly to keep his expression hidden and another part because a liar such as herself didn’t deserve it. “My wife is pregnant. We’re about to be a family and I want to take care of her. Please, don’t contact me anymore. It’s truly over between us.”

Ichika curled her hand over the doorway to her little apartment, letting her face fall. So, the rumours were true. Apathy and bitter injustice curdled in her veins. Why did you deserve to live the life she wanted? Why was it you that had a the privilege to call him yours? 

Pregnant. Ichika could’ve puked. If that were the case, she wished you every ounce of good luck. You would need it. Shuji truly was such a cruel man. And the young woman had seen many a brutal bastard in her lifetime. Let that bitch handle him, she spat with vitriol inwardly. Let her see for herself how inhumane he can be. 

Outwardly, she did not argue with him. “Of course. Have a good life, Shuji.”

If it wasn’t for the minute tremble in her voice, Toman’s second would have thought she was planning bloody murder. A show of emotion was always good—it meant that a person was coming to terms with their pain and would not retaliate. Shuji needed complete subservience to ensure she would never harm you. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, back still turned. “I wish you the same. Goodbye, Ichika.” 

She did not answer. And he did not push for a response. Walking away from his once safe space to start a new life with the only person who mattered. 

The door closed behind him, locking with finality. 

“What do you want to name our baby?” 

Shuji’s voice over the phone, laced with nicotine and a little bit of the whiskey he drank to keep himself awake in Toman’s headquarters could never quite get him heady compared to your sweet giggle.

“Don’t you have to leave soon?” you scolded lightly over the phone. Amber eyes glanced at his watch. Five more minutes. Never enough time to hear about you and your day.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “But, I still want to hear your pretty voice. So, keep talking, darlin’.”

He could sense you rolling your eyes from the other end of the line, and he grinned, uncaring that anyone passing by would see the great Reaper of souls smiling like a love-sick idiot. His wife has the key to his calmness, they would whisper. Let them. They were right. 

“Hmm,” you paused, and it was easy to imagine your sweet face scrunching up in thought. “Shusei. I love that name.”

If Shuji’s heart was out of his body for the world to see, it would be jumping in the air and spinning a cartwheel. Taming the emotion in his voice was hard to do, but he managed to put a lid on his overflowing gratitude that you were the one he was doing this with, exhaling a short laugh. “Shusei, huh? After me, doll?” 

“Yeah,” your shy admittance stole his breath. “A little baby boy with your eyes. Shusei. I think that’s fitting. It means—”

“—Soul bond,” he finished for you, a lump in his throat. “I know, doll.”

He had never known a silence to be so tender. Where he came from, every stretch of quiet was a waiting game for a night full of terrors and screams. Broken noses, scarred skin. Moans thumping around the small bedroom and his mother’s glossy-eyed stare the morning after, more cheap concealer patching the bruises around her eyes and the bite marks on her throat. 

“Come back home soon,” your small voice ignited such a strong desire to see you that he almost spun on his heel to return back to your side. “We both miss you, Daddy.”

“I miss you both, too,” he mumbled, staring at his watch. His five minutes was up. “I’ll see you in a few days time, yeah? G’na be thinking of you and baby Shusei.” 

“Okay,” a rustle and the sound of your lips pressing to the receiver. “Mwah. I love you, Shuji.”

He resisted the urge to giggle like a fool. “I love you, too.”

“Say mwah,” he could practically hear your pout from where he was. “Say it or else I won’t sleep well tonight, Shu.” 

What a menace his wife was. Truly, she was the epitome of a true Mrs. Hanma. “Fine. Mwah. I love you, baby. Give Shusei a kiss for me.”

You ended the call with another loud smooch and he chuckled, not noticing Kisaki standing by the doorway, a knowing smile on his face. Shuji bristled and narrowed his eyes in irritation, already knowing what Tetta would say. 

“The wife all happy and loved up?” 

“Shut up,” Shuji mumbled, tossing his phone onto his desk and loosening his tie. “I know you’re here to gloat.”

Kisaki shook his head, that stupid knowing smirk still on his ugly mug. “Just here to say I told you so. Y/N is a good choice for you, Shuji. She balances you out.” For the first time, Hanma hated that his friend and leader was right. 

“Yeah, yeah. Yin and yang and all that bullshit. You’re such a smug son of a bitch, Tetta.”

“Am I wrong, though?” his blue eyes sparkled in amusement. “You do not know how lucky you are to have Y/N as a wife. I’ve heard many gang princesses are not as nice or as patient as she is.”

Shuji’s stomach turned. News in their world of prissy wives demanding for retribution on their husbands from their powerful yakuza families was few and far between, but they existed. Part of it was the reason why he kept away from you was due to your father’s status. The idea made him shudder and thank every deity that you were not of the revenge type. 

“She’s a good woman,” Kisaki hummed, interrupting Shuji’s thoughts. “Don’t fuck it up with her, Shuji.” 

The tall, golden eyed man rolled his eyes. “Hard not to when I’ve knocked her up already, Tetta.” He could tell Kisaki was not anticipating such news. Cold, diamond eyes widened, hardened and softened at the same time.

“Good. That is good news. Now, shall we get the meeting going so we can return home sooner?” To our families. Tetta didn’t have to speak that last part for Shuji to hear it.  

He cracked his neck, plastering on his signature, wide and unnerving grin—the foreboding Reaper, ready to start killing with efficiency. “Let’s do it.”

Anything he could do to get home to you and his baby quick enough. 

With your hair washed, your body completely squeaky clean and dinner cooling on the stove, the only thing missing to complete your night was a glass of red wine. 

But, alas, you could not do that because of one, very important person. 

Your lips stretched into a fond grin and you danced a little in one spot, overwhelmed with happiness. Patting your stomach, you cooed at your baby. “Shusei? How’re you feeling? You’re so awfully quiet in there, y’know. You didn’t even make mommy go to the toilet once today.” 

The moment those words left your lips, you felt a little shiver running down your spine. 

Is my baby okay? You spread your palm over the soft of your belly, closing your eyes and trying to feel your darling angel. There was a minute movement, and your breath hitched. Though it was far too early to tell if the baby was all clear, it was in that slight twitch that you held faith. Shusei will be fine. 

Mindlessly, you hummed a tune, one that was unfamiliar, and you wracked your memories for the name of the song. Slightly frustrated, you tried keying snatches of lyrics, and the only thing that came to mind was you’re all I’ve ever known…

A-ha! You found the song, and clicked on it in Spotify. 

A rich tenor filled your penthouse, and your eyes filled up with tears. Of course. This was your wedding song. The one that played for your first dance with Shuji. But… why did it leave you with such profound sadness? It did not make any sense and you let the lyrics fall around you, trying to wrack your brains for an inkling of what could’ve made you so down. 

Like quick flashes, you saw his gold eyes. Though, they were not rich amber, but a flat gold. Emotionless. Unattainable. 

You gasped, nearly dropping your mug of hot chocolate. 

What the… 

Before, you could detangle the treacherous thoughts in your mind, your phone beeped. Frowning, you set down your mug, letting your first wedding song play in the background on loop, before clicking on the blank number. 

The first message itself was enough to make your heart squeeze in dread.

Do you think you’re the only one Hanma Shuji loves? Think again. 

Your breath hitched when the unfamiliar number sent three separate attachments. The WiFi was slow, dragging out your impending dread, and you cursed the racing thoughts which colored you in shades of complete doubt. 

What did they mean by Shuji wasn’t faithful to you? 

The notion was absurd. 

You had seen the way how your husband looked at you, how he treated you like you were made of glass. The way he held you like you were something precious to be protected.

If Shuji was unfaithful, you would know. Never did you catch him with a wandering eye or the telltale signs of perfume and traces of lipstick on his clothes. He always came back on time, did whatever you requested of him and most importantly, he made you feel like the only woman on this planet. 

There could’ve been no way—

The first video loaded, and you were struck into a stunned disquiet by what unfolded before you. 

In the frame, unmistakable with the tattoo of ‘Sin’ running down an unknown woman’s belly, your husband was passionately fucking into another woman’s pussy, using her to get off. The silence of your marital home exacerbated the sickening squelches of their sexes meeting, and his deep groans you thought were reserved solely for you were now muttering a name.

Moaning a name that was not yours. 

You thought you could’ve hurled. 

Scrambling, you ended the video, wanting to remove the sound of your husband’s moans over the song you both first danced to. You disconnected the Bluetooth speakers from your phone, a heavy silence blanketing your tremoring body. 

This is wrong. This is heinous. 

Pausing the video, you took another deep breath and swiped to the next one. 

Mercifully, this one did not have Shuji fucking another woman, but it was a silent recording from underneath a meeting table. You could barely make out the curve of his defined thigh, the rumble of his voice in the background clearly spewing out the next words that hit your soul with astronomical waves of pain.

Wetness slipped down your cheeks, and you were close to hyperventilating when the meaning of this clandestine video became clear. 

“I will kill her if she so much as ever disrespects me.”

A consternated grunt. “Sir, this is your wife—”

“She means nothing to me.” It got worst the longer you listened in. “Once Tomio gets what he wants, I’ll divorce her. A fucking grandson for my freedom. It’s over, then.” 

You paused the video, the hot tears splashing down your thick bathrobe, drowning out the pounding blood rushing in your ears. With trembling hands, you clicked on the next attachment which happened to be a voice recording.

“... I love you,” your husband’s husky voice echoed around the lonesome penthouse. “Ichika, you are my world. I love you.” 

The phone slipped from your hand, clattering onto the floor, unnoticed from the deluge of tears that wouldn’t stop racing down your cheeks. 

This cannot be happening. This is wrong.

A cracking that fissured deep in your mind.

And then—the memories poured out like an overflowing urn.

His words, his actions, the pain he bruised on your soul. The empty penthouse, the bags you packed for your honeymoon only to be informed he was on another trip by impassive-faced underlings. With her. With Ichika. 

God. You heaved, spewing out strings of spit onto the carpet. It was her all along… how could I have been so blind? 

The same diamond necklace. The anger in her eyes. Your missing bento. 

You had been conversing with your husband’s mistress in the pretense of civility when you should’ve caused an uproar this whole time. 

Shuji… you let her humiliate me. In public. In front of your entire organization. 

Pain unlike any other you had ever experienced in your life overflowed past your lacerated soul, spilling out as broken wails which drowned out the last of your common sense to keep it together for your baby. How many secrets have you kept from me, Shuji? 

In the background, the singer’s dulcet voice crooned on and on from your phone’s speakers about his affections for his woman, assuring her that she would be his only love forever. 

Liar. Even the song you first danced to at your wedding was rubbing the awful truth into your face.  

Palms pressed to your stomach, you shook your head from side to side, as if to dislodge the reality that Shuji had unwittingly destroyed this marriage. The walls started to shake, and your teeth chattering was the first indication that you were spiraling into a panic attack. 

It felt like an earthquake was rocking you apart, tearing you limb by limb to leave nothing in its wake. One second, you were leaning against the counter, and the next, your body toppled to the floor, nails digging into the carpet as loud, uneven wails erupted from your mouth, your entire heart tearing cleanly into two. Snot and saliva trickled down your face, one hand clawed in your hair to tug at the roots, taking out your unending pain physically onto your writhing body. 

As if the agony was a livewire, it ran through you with jolts that left you heaving, blubbering uncontrollably in a lump on the hard ground. 

Shuji… Shuji, how could you do this to me? 

What sins did you commit to deserve such treatment from your husband? What heinous crimes did he suffer from your hands that he had to resort to such cruelty that immobolized your heart to a perpetually burning stake? 

You were dry heaving on the ground, the furthest thing from the composed, unfeeling Blood Phoenix princess the world knew you as. They never saw the scars, the hatred directed towards you for your only sin of existing in a world where you were not wanted but still exploited for these men’s gains. 

It started with your father, who disdained you from the day you entered this world because it was from your existence that your beloved mother met her demise. Years of being looked down upon, chased out of family rooms and your father’s embrace when it was all you wanted—all you needed to feel a shred of belonging. It haunted you with the realization that you were so undeserving, not even the man who brought you into existence could love you. 

How could you expect another man to adore you when the first man who was supposed to love and protect you could not even do that because of the skin you were born in? To be a  woman was a sin when the matters of dark politics were brought into play. The one variable you had no control over was the one they punished you the most because of it. 

You were nothing but a pawn on their chessboard. An unwilling player in their bloodthirsty games. 

But, what truly hurt wasn’t your father’s cruelty or even this world that failed a fragile woman just looking for love and belonging. 

It was the fact that you thought you had finally gotten it in the form of Shuji’s love. 

That your years of exhaustion on the road trying to bend every single bone in your body to find a home to belong to was not the respite you desperately wished it was. 

Where you once thought his love would be a plush mattress that would finally keep you safe from the horrors of this world had distorted into a bed of thorns that left you gaping and wrecked; blood spewing out from every bruise he left on your soul. 

From his mistreatment, to his emotional abuse and down to his infidelity, you had to wonder—was any of it real? 

Were any of his gestures like taking you out to Kanagawa, the sweet nothings he whispered after making love to you, or even the tender manner he held your body close as you fell asleep in his arms done with an honest heart? 

Or was it because he had a deal to fulfill? 

Once Tomio gets what he wants, I’ll divorce her.

No, your eyes rippled shut, more tears slipping down your swollen cheeks as you gurgled out a soft sob. None of it was real. 

Shuji had thoroughly milked you as the biggest leverage to his game, and like a fool, you succumbed to the pitfalls of his charm.

And look at where it brought you. You rubbed your belly, those ground-fisurring sobs petering into hiccups. After all that was said and done, it was you who suffered the most from these lies. You were pregnant and heartbroken, completely lost as to what to do next, your entire soul screaming for you to run away from this disastrous life and never look back. 

The ache in your chest could’ve almost drowned you from the neverending waves of pain and your eyes smarted, another flood of tears threatening to submerge you in your vortex of grief. By some miracle, you managed to sit up, rocking on your heels. 

Gripping your phone to your chest, you mechanically went through the short chat with the unknown number, blocking it and proceeding to your messages with Shuji. 

It was like you wanted to hurt yourself even more to hammer in the truth that you meant nothing to him.  

Those unanswered texts from what felt like another life where you played the unwilling part of a nagging wife tore through you like steel talons, reminding you of your foolishness. 

Shuji, are you coming home for dinner? 

I’m waiting in bed for you, husband.

Shuji, where are you? I’m worried.

Shuji, please come home. 

The truth was staring at you right in the face. 

Hanma Shuji was a man incapable of love. He had brought you into the wringer, took you for a ride against your own will and left you devastated at the very end; the catalyst to your undoing. 

And for weeks, you suspected nothing.

Idiot. No wonder your father couldn’t trust the Blood Phoenixes to you. If a woman could be so blind to her husband’s infidelity for so long, she wouldn’t suspect a double-crosser even if they handed her a glass of spiked sake. 

Useless. There must’ve been a reason why Shuji did not love you. Perhaps, it was because you were never strong. You’ve only met her a handful of times, but you could tell that the other woman—Ichika (you almost threw up at her name)—was far more resilient and resourceful than you ever were. The right lover for the second most dangerous man in Toman.

Nothing you did ever mattered. You were nothing.

Slowly, you picked yourself off the floor, shoulders slumped and phone dangling limply from your fingers. It was mechanical—first, you shuffled into your wardrobe, picking out your tote bag.

Where will I go?

Packing the essentials, you stuffed it full with your most precious items. 

The first dress you bought with your own money from secret counseling sessions at a child centre. The Tiffany bracelet that once belonged to your mother. A pair of earrings that also used to adorn your mother’s lobes. Your eyes landed on the diamond necklace Shuji gifted to you and a sludge of irrational anger welled up in your chest. It spilled out like a putrid cry, and you wrenched it off its stand, tearing the clasp, the glittering stones falling to the ground like diamond raindrops.

You picked up the largest one, the rational part of your tormented mind reminding you that you could fetch a good price at a pawn shop for the pendant. The same one shining off Ichika’s neck.

Fool. You slammed a hand to your forehead, as if to knock more common sense into your head. You stupid, stupid girl. 

Tears welling in your eyes, the hurt clawed through your chest like a hot, iron fist. 

Before you could make a run in the dead of the night, like you did the very first time, your phone rang. 

You were barely cognizant when you answered the call, your frozen lips murmuring a soft, “Hello?”

“L/N Y/N?” 

The unfamiliar voice struck a chord of terror into your already frazzled soul. “Yeah. Who is this?” 

“This is Iroto, Kisaki’s bodyguard. I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

You tightened your grip on the phone. Shuji. Despite everything that was forcefully unearthed like a rotting, bloated corpse that permeated the room with pungent lies your cheating husband told you, a part of you wished no harm would befall him. 

Please… don’t let anything bad happen to him.

“W-what happened?” 

“It’s your father,” a pause. “L/N Tomio has suffered a stroke and you are requested to attend to his side immediately.” 

a/n: reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!!

tagging [closed]: @soushswag @euryale16 @grindouse @legitnoi @sickhiqs @hanmas @gojojang @queenbunnny999

© all works belong to lalalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

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