Ume was wearing the new clothes Aoi had made for her. She extended her small hands, gently tracing the embroidery on the fabric before lifting her hem and spinning in a joyful circle.
"Big Sister Aoi, do I look pretty?" She tilted her small face up, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Aoi.
"You look beautiful," Aoi replied, nodding with a smile.
Just then, the courtyard gate creaked open and Gyutaro stepped inside. He had just returned from work, his rusted sickle still gripped in his hand. He paused in his tracks at the sight of Ume in her new finery, twirling happily in the dirt yard.
Gyutaro's gaze softened instantly. He stood silently by the entrance, watching his sister's delight. For a fleeting second, the corners of his mouth curved upward in an almost imperceptible smile.
Seeing him, Ume stopped her spinning and dashed toward him. She grabbed the hem of his tattered clothes, looking up with pure excitement. "Onii-chan, Onii-chan! Look! The new clothes Big Sister Aoi made for me! Do I look pretty?"
Gyutaro knelt down, studying her intently. He reached out and gently patted Ume's head, his voice carrying a trace of uncharacteristic tenderness. "Yeah. You look beautiful."
Watching the two siblings, Aoi felt a faint smile tug at her lips. Life here was a constant struggle, but having family to hold onto... wasn't that its own kind of happiness?
The Shadow in the Alley
Later that day, Aoi finished her work early. As she was passing a narrow alleyway, she caught the faint, unmistakable rasp of Gyutaro's voice.
She paused, peering into the shadows. Gyutaro was there, his sickle drawn, his foot pinned firmly onto the chest of a man sprawling on the ground.
"Pay up! Now!"
Aoi's shock lasted only a second before it was replaced by a quiet understanding. In the lawless hierarchy of the Entertainment District, if you weren't ruthless, you were prey. Gyutaro was simply doing what he had to do to survive—to protect his sister.
She didn't intervene. She stayed hidden in the shadows, watching as Gyutaro brandished the sickle before the man's face. Once the money was handed over, he retracted his foot and spat out a single, cold word: "Beat it."
The man scrambled away, vanishing at the end of the alley. Gyutaro slowly straightened his back, hoisting the sickle over his shoulder. Sensing a presence, he spun around, his sharp gaze locking onto the entrance of the alley.
When he saw Aoi standing there, his entire body went rigid. A flash of panic flickered in his eyes, quickly masked by a cold, defensive hardness—the look of someone who expected to be discarded.
"You saw everything," he said, his voice low and raspy, tinged with a bitter edge of self-mockery.
Aoi didn't say a word. She simply walked toward him and pulled a clean handkerchief from her sleeve, holding it out to him.
Gyutaro froze, making no move to take it.
Seeing his hesitation, Aoi stepped closer. She reached up and gently wiped away a stray droplet of blood that had splashed onto his cheek. When her fingertips brushed his ice-cold skin, Gyutaro's body gave a nearly imperceptible shudder.
He stood there like a trapped beast cornered by a hunter, paralyzed as the soft fabric moved across his grime-streaked face.
"Aren't you afraid of me?" his voice cracked, a faint, almost silent tremor running through it.
Aoi withdrew her hand, clenching the blood-stained handkerchief in her palm. She looked up, meeting his eyes with a steady, quiet gaze.
"It's this world I fear, Gyutaro. Never you."
Gyutaro was stunned. In all his years, he had heard nothing but screams of terror and vitriolic curses. No one had ever spoken to him like this—with such calm, unwavering acceptance. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt as though it were blocked by a lead weight. Not a single word would come out.
Suddenly, he lunged forward and pulled Aoi into a tight, desperate embrace. He smelled of iron-scented blood and street dust. His frame was shaking—a lifetime of suppressed emotion finally finding a crack in the armor.
Aoi didn't move. She simply stood there, letting him hold on.
After a long while, Gyutaro slowly released her. "From now on... I won't let you see me like that again," he said solemnly.
Aoi shook her head gently. "You don't need to change for me. You're doing what you must." She reached out her hand toward him. "Let's go. Ume is waiting for us."
Gyutaro looked at the hand she offered. It was fair, slender, and clean—a stark contrast to his own, which was stained with dirt and the residue of violence. He hesitated, but finally, he placed his palm in hers.
The Promise
As they neared their shack, they saw Ume standing outside. A man was looming over her, saying something that had her face contorted in terror. Her small body was shaking; she tried to run, but the man grabbed her by the arm.
Gyutaro's expression turned murderous in an instant. "Get your hands off her!"
The man jumped, startled by the sheer venom in Gyutaro's voice, and instinctively let go of Ume. She immediately scrambled behind Gyutaro, clutching his waist. "Onii-chan..."
"Wh-what do you want?" the man stammered, his bravado crumbling as he stared at the sickle in Gyutaro's hand.
Gyutaro didn't answer. He simply began walking toward the man, step by deliberate step. His eyes were dead and cold, looking at the man as if he were already a corpse.
Aoi rushed forward. Seeing Ume pale with fright, her heart clenched. She pulled the girl into her arms, whispering soft comforts. "It's okay, Ume. Big Sister is here."
Gyutaro spared a glance back at Aoi and Ume. The blinding bloodlust in his eyes receded just a fraction. He knew he couldn't kill the man here—not where Ume would have to watch the carnage.
Finally, Gyutaro just leaned in and gave the man a look of such concentrated hatred that the man nearly tripped over his own feet. "Run. If I ever see you near her again, you're dead."
The man didn't need to be told twice; he fled as if the devil himself were at his heels.
Once they were back inside and Aoi had coaxed Ume into a peaceful sleep, she sat down beside Gyutaro. "Gyutaro, we need to talk."
He didn't look up, offering only a dull, "Mmh."
"You almost killed that man today," Aoi said softly.
Gyutaro's hands paused in their task. "He tried to hurt Ume."
"I know," Aoi replied. "But you can't solve every problem with a blade. If you kill someone, the authorities won't let it slide. What happens to Ume then? What happens to her if you're gone?"
Gyutaro fell silent. He knew she was right, but in his world, violence was the only currency that bought safety. He didn't know how else to be.
"I'll protect her," he muttered. "No matter the cost."
"I believe you," Aoi said, reaching out to touch his arm. "But think of Ume. If something happens to you, she will truly be alone in this world. So, promise me... don't be impulsive, okay?"