At the edge of the district, the House of Fallen Blossoms stood hunched in the dark, its old wooden sign groaning in the wind. Inside, sake fumes mingled with the low murmur of tired voices, but a tension cut beneath it all—tight, drawn like a string ready to snap.
Ryu leaned against the counter, broom idle in his hands. His amber eyes shifted to the entrance, where Taro stood like a statue, one hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed tanto. The weight of his earlier warning still pressed on Ryu's chest—rumors of a ronin, and the looming arrival of the Ox's men.
His gaze flicked toward the storeroom door. The katana hidden inside had gleamed like a promise the night before. Now, it felt distant. Untouchable.
Hana moved through the room, wiping down tables with sharp, practiced motions. Her faded cherry-blossom kimono caught the lantern light in brief flashes. She caught him staring and smirked.
"You're brooding again, Ryu. Thinking about that sword?"
"Maybe," he said, voice low.
"You're hopeless." She tossed her rag onto the table. "Taro's right—samurai don't sweep floors. You going to spend your life staring at blades, or actually pick one up?"
Ryu's jaw tightened. "I will. Just… not tonight."
Hana raised an eyebrow, the edge in her voice softening. "Better be soon. The Ox's men don't wait for anyone's dreams."
Yumi approached, tray empty, her bruised cheeks pale in the flickering light. She clutched the tray close, her voice barely audible. "Hana… don't push him. Ryu's… trying."
Hana scoffed, but gently. "Trying's not enough here, Yumi. You know that."
Ryu looked at Yumi, his chest tightening. She looked smaller than usual, her patched kimono loose on her thin frame. "You okay?"
She nodded without meeting his gaze. "Just tired. The merchants were… rough tonight."
Ryu's grip tightened on the broom handle. "Tell me who. I'll deal with it."
"You can't fight everyone," she said, the hint of a smile ghosting across her lips.
"Watch me."
Hana laughed softly. For once, it wasn't teasing. "Idiot. Brave, but still an idiot."
Taro's voice cut across the room. "Enough chatter. Ryu—check the back. Make sure the alley's clear."
"Yes, Taro-san."
Outside, the alley was dim and narrow. The scent of mud and rotting food overpowered the faint sweetness of fallen blossoms. Ryu scanned the shadows, nerves taut. Hana's warning about the ronin echoed in his mind. He saw only crates, a stray cat, and the breeze shifting trash. But the silence felt wrong. Too still.
He returned to find Taro still watching the street, his presence like a drawn blade.
"Alley's clear," Ryu said, voice low. "You think the ronin's real?"
"Maybe," Taro said without looking at him. "Old debts have long shadows. If he shows—stay out of it. Understand?"
Ryu nodded, though the warning only stoked his questions. Taro's past was locked behind silence, but his scars—and that katana in the storeroom—spoke of a life Ryu couldn't imagine.
Then the brothel door creaked open.
Three men stepped inside, and the air shifted. Ryu's stomach sank.
The Ox's enforcers.
The leader was broad and bald, a jagged scar running across his nose. A short blade rested at his side. The two men flanking him were wiry, twitchy, with quick hands that hovered near their knives. Conversation in the brothel died. Even the drunkest merchants went quiet.
"Taro," the leader growled. His voice was rough stone. "Time to pay."
Taro didn't move. "Coins are on the counter, Kenta. Same as always."
Kenta stepped forward, scar twitching. "Not enough. The Ox says you shorted him last month. He's not happy."
Hana stopped mid-wipe. Yumi took a step back, tray trembling. Ryu moved closer to Taro, every muscle on edge.
"I paid what I owed," Taro said flatly. "The Ox is greedy, not cheated."
Kenta's grin faded. "Careful, old man. Greedy or not, the Ox gets his due. Or someone bleeds."
Ryu stepped forward before he could stop himself. "Taro's right. You've got your coins. Take them and leave."
Kenta's eyes narrowed, settling on Ryu. "And who's this? Your pet? He talks big."
Taro's hand clamped down on Ryu's shoulder, firm. "Stay out of this."
Ryu clenched his teeth and stayed silent.
Kenta snorted. "Good dog." He nodded to his men. One went to the counter, scooping up the coins. The other, rat-faced and smirking, grabbed a second handful and slipped it into his pocket.
Hana stepped forward. "Hey! That's ours! You can't just take—"
Kenta's blade scraped halfway from its sheath. "Shut it, girl. Or I'll take something else."
Ryu lurched forward, but Taro's grip held fast.
"Enough," Taro said, voice low but heavy with warning. "You've got your pay, Kenta. Leave."
For a moment, Ryu thought it would turn bloody. Then Kenta chuckled and sheathed his blade.
"Lucky I'm in a good mood," he said. "Next time, the Ox sends someone who isn't." He jerked his chin, and his men followed him out, their laughter echoing through the night.
The room seemed to breathe again. Yumi sank onto a stool. Hana cursed under her breath. Ryu shook off Taro's hand, angry.
"You let them take more than their share! We need that coin!"
Taro met his gaze. "We also need to stay alive. You fight those three, and ten more come tomorrow."
"They're bleeding us dry! You could've—"
"Could've what?" Taro's voice cracked like a whip. "Drawn my blade? Slit their throats? Brought the Ox's wrath on everyone here?" He pointed at Hana and Yumi. "You think they'd survive that? Use your damn head."
Ryu looked away, shame simmering in his chest. He knew Taro was right—but knowing didn't dull the burn.
Hana stepped in, gentler now. "He's right, Ryu. We're still standing. That's the win."
Yumi nodded. "I don't want anyone hurt. Not you, not Taro-san."
Ryu sighed, shoulders loosening. "Yeah. You're right."
Taro's voice softened. "Clean up. Night's not over yet."
Ryu grabbed the broom and swept hard, frustration in every motion. Hana and Yumi moved around the room, resetting tables, stacking cups. Slowly, the brothel returned to a tense quiet.
Hana passed by. "You scared me back there, Ryu. Brave, but stupid."
Ryu managed a grin. "Someone's got to stand up."
She shook her head. "Just don't die doing it. I'd miss your sulking."
He chuckled, the tightness in his chest loosening a little. Yumi was near the corner, her hands still trembling as she stacked cups.
"You need help?" Ryu called.
She glanced up, surprised. "I'm okay. But… thanks."
Taro watched from behind the counter, face unreadable. Ryu held his gaze, hoping for a word, some piece of the truth. But Taro only nodded and looked away.
The hours dragged. Outside, the slums pulsed faintly—shouts, laughter, clinking coins. Ryu swept, mind drifting back to the katana hidden in the storeroom. Its gleam stayed in his memory, like a spark in the dark. One day, he'd hold a blade like that. Not for show. For real.
Hana returned to the counter, wiping her hands. "Taro's been quiet lately. Think he's waiting for something?"
Ryu followed her gaze. "The ronin… the Ox… maybe both. Whatever it is, we'll face it with him."
"Yeah," she murmured. "We will."
Yumi approached, voice soft. "Can we… stay together tonight? After we close? I don't want to be alone."
Ryu's chest tightened. "Course we can. Right, Hana?"
Hana wrapped an arm around her. "Like we'd let you sleep alone. We're family."
Ryu smiled—small, but real. The brothel was a cage, but the people inside were worth everything. Taro. Hana. Yumi. They were his.
He looked to the storeroom again. The katana waited.
And so did the path ahead.