Echoes in Ink

Then he was gone.

And Yui was left in the quiet again—but this time, it didn't feel so empty.

.

.

.

Yui hadn't meant to watch him walk away.

But she did.

The hallway light flickered behind his retreating silhouette, and with every step Mikey took, the apartment seemed to settle into a quieter kind of chaos. She leaned against the door, heart thudding like a second pulse in her throat, her fingers lingering over where his lips had brushed her cheek. It was just a gentle peck and not a proper kiss, but it left behind the burn of one.

The sky outside turned the colour of bruise, a deep indigo swallowing the last bit dark of dawn. Sleep had become irrelevant. There were too many things crawling in her blood now—memory, fear, want, and something dangerously close to trust.

She stared at the black notebook Mikey had left on the coffee table full of all guilt and ghosts.

It was heavier than it looked. 

She flipped through the names again. Each one was etched like a confession, some in tight, almost angry script, others looser, rushed. There were not just names. There were places, dates, phrases in the margins. She saw one note scrawled beside a name: "Deserved better."

Yui closed the notebook and took a long breath.

Mikey wasn't just keeping a list. He was keeping guilt and anger in that book.

By mid-morning, she was at the clinic, dressed in her clean white coat, hair tied in her usual bun. The world outside the apartment had no idea she had cried last night, kissed a man with a violent past, and promised to help bring down the man who shared her blood.

But as she looked into her patient's mouth and explained a root canal, her mind wandered. Not toward the plan, but toward him. 

Toward Manjiro.

He wasn't what she expected.

No, she corrected herself. He was everything she feared he would be — but more. He was ice and flame, restrained and reckless, and those contradictions intrigued her in ways she wasn't ready to admit yet.

During her lunch break, she checked her phone.

No messages.

No missed calls.

Just the lingering aftertaste of last night.

Mikey, meanwhile, stood in a dim tattoo parlour tucked between a ramen joint and a run-down arcade. The buzzing of the needle was oddly soothing. He sat shirtless, spine straight, as the artist darkened the ink on the Hanafuda card's full moon residing on his nape.

He didn't flinch.

Pain was an old friend.

"This one's healing faster," the tattooist muttered, wiping away excess ink. "You taking care of yourself better now?"

Mikey gave a noncommittal grunt.

In truth, he didn't know. But something was different. There was a rhythm again to the way his days began. A thread of clarity amid the fog. And it started the moment he heard her say, "You're not alone in this."

His phone buzzed. He didn't check it immediately. But when he did, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Yui: Did you eat yet? Or are you planning on surviving on vengeance again today?

He typed quickly.

Mikey: Had vengeance with a side of miso soup. Pretty filling.

Her reply was instant.

Yui: You're impossible.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, then typed:

Mikey: Meet me tonight. There's something you need to see.

Later that night~

The "something" turned out to be an old warehouse in Odaiba, far from the polished lights of Tokyo Tower or the clinical sterility of Yui's world.

She arrived in a long grey coat, hair slightly damp from the evening drizzle. Mikey was already waiting by the rusted doors, a cigarette glowing between his fingers.

"What is this place Mikey?" Yui felt agitated.

"Take a guess doctor." Mikey smirked. 

"You brought me to a crime scene?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Not anymore," he said, flicking the cigarette away. "Now it's a museum."

She frowned, but followed him inside.

The space was enormous, echoing with every step. Dust clinging to the broken crates and metal railings. But near the center, under a single spotlight, stood a whiteboard. On it, lines connected names, dates, and locations, some of them circled in red.

Her breath caught.

She recognised a few.

"What is this?"

"Everything I know about your father's network. Fronts, bribes, off-the-record operations."

"Why show me this now?"

Mikey looked at her. Really looked. "Because you said you want the truth. This is the ugly version of me and your father."

Yui walked closer. One name was written in bold black marker: Himari Foundation.

Her fingers curled into fists.

That was her father's charity front.

"You think he uses this for money laundering?"

"I don't think so. I know so." Mikey said affirmatively.

She turned to him. "Then why not go to the police?"

He stepped closer. "You know the answer to that. He owns half of them and besides I am a Mafia too, what do you think will happen to me?" Mikey asked in a serious tone.

Yui had millions of thoughts per second in her brain, thinking about the worst scenarios. 

The space between them grew heavy again.

"Then what's the plan? Expose him through this board?" Yui asked changing the subject.

"No. The board is just the start. The plan is to let him hang himself with his own rope."

"And you think I'm the rope."

Mikey didn't flinch. "You're the part he never accounted for. You're his daughter. You know the cracks in his foundation and you have nothing to lose."

Yui exhaled slowly. "Except my soul."

He stepped closer. "You won't lose it. Not on my watch."

His reassurance brought warmth to Yui in that shady and oddly cold abandoned warehouse.

"That's a dangerous promise." Her laugh was bitter.

"I know. I'm good at taking on dangers."

She looked at him, and for a moment, the warehouse faded. She wasn't a daughter of a crime lord. He wasn't the head of Bonten. They were just Yui and Mikey.

Broken. Bruised. Beginning.

"If we do this," she said, her voice low but assertive, "we do it on my terms. I won't be your pawn."

He nodded. "Deal." 

"And I want everything. All your files, recordings, names. Full access."

"Done."

"And..."

He tilted his head. "And?"

"No lies. Not between us. Not anymore."

Mikey reached into his jacket and pulled out a small pendant. It was old, the metal worn smooth. He placed it in her hand.

"My sister Emma gave me this when I became the leader," he said. "I kept it because it reminded me of who I was supposed to be. Now I want you to hold it."

Yui stared down at the pendant. "Why me?"

"Because if anyone can remind me what I should become again... it's you."

She swallowed hard, eyes stinging.

He turned to leave, but she caught his wrist.

"Stay. Just for a little while." She had hope in her eyes, which was pulling Mikey closer to her every second.

He did stay.

They sat side by side in the dark warehouse, not quite touching, their shoulders nearly brushing.

There were still shadows between them. But now, there was also light.

A thread of something new.

Not peace.

Not yet.

But the beginning of it.