Discover Top Posts Tagged with #sora scribbles

Undercover Distant Lovers

Or Air Force 1’s

Pairing: Mattsukawa/Mattsun x reader

Single parent au// Yakuza au

Word count: 9.5 K

🔞: mdni for mature themes, blood, criminal violence (surrounding the cast here), allusions to sex

Ka-sho// (auntie) Shoko is yn’s relative. You can read how she meets Makki here.

An old piccrew which inspired this tale. ^-^

If you were thumbing through the Mattuskawa’s family photo album, you’d see many polaroids of a young girl who wears her hair in half pigtails hanging out with her god-brother Takeru on a trip to Tokyo Disneyland. Her father sports aviator sunglasses, tailored pants and a bold yellow unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt with a muscle tank top underneath. His daughter just turned four years old and as a birthday gift, she begged her father to buy her matching Nike Air Force 1’s so they can visit Takeru on fall break in Tokyo when the teenager actually had a free day from practice at the All-Japan Youth Volleyball Camp. Below it in handwriting too neat to be his daughter’s and too rigid to be his own, the caption reads: “Mattsukawa Erina, 4th birthday party trip to Tokyo Disneyland, 2018”

The person behind the camera is the same one whose handwriting serves as a reminder of how one encounter at the local Shibuya Foot Locker in the shopping district turned the single father and daughter’s life upside down.

[2017, Mattsukawa Residence]

A little girl sits atop the reupholstered couch from IKEA his mother bought on a whim, her social worker stands close by. There are court ordered papers detailing of one suicide jumper at the bridge in the country side who met an early end when she was chased by officers for stealing goldfish crackers. It was discovered when fingerprints were lifted that she was the mother of a child in a foster home, who when the records of birth were filed, no father was listed. Rather, the name fields of the father were left intentionally blank because no one knew how the woman was addicted to making men feel good.

Mattsukawa’s mother couldn’t believe she would become a grandmother at the early age of 47. His father thought he taught his son to take care of women in their time of need, and when his son explained to everyone about the nasty breakup, he honestly thought his ex was sleeping with other men behind his back. The toddler sucks her thumb and she has the same pout he does when he is about to cry; when you look more closely, her mannerisms are much like their son’s and for once, Mattsukawa’s mother asks the question they all wanted answered.

“What will happen to her if he doesn’t sign the forms for legal guardianship? Doesn’t the mother’s family want to see their grandbaby too?”

The social worker sighs immediately after taking a deep breath and upon the exhale, explains they wouldn’t keep her even if she was blood.

“Don’t want her turning out like her mother,” the officer makes little shadow bunnies as if to quote their harsh words.

“You’re the last name on the list the woman, her mother, has sir,” the social worker states the facts. “And to answer your question ma’am, she goes back into the system. Ideally, she will age out by her third year of high school if she is lucky, go on with her life never knowing either of her parents had wanted her.”

Mattsukawa takes the felt tip marker and begins filling out the paperwork and regardless of what anyone says in the room, he makes the right choice. His mother nods in approval, a bit misty-eyed until she feels a soft, small hand pat her cheek.

“No cry.”

She regains her composure while she points to herself introducing her to her grandbaby for the first time as, “obaa-san.” The little girl raises a fist in the air and she’s missing a few teeth, but they are poking through her gums and Mattsukawa’s father ruffles her curly hair.

“Welcome to the family little star.”

Mattsukawa continues filling out the paperwork confirming he will be formerly be seeking sole custody of his daughter and should anything befall the Mattsukawas’, he lists three names as his child’s godfathers. The social worker explains how much is told about the circumstances surrounding her sleeping in the children’s home by the adults and volunteers who work there; she picks up the little girl with pigtails and tells the family they’ll stop by on Sunday (i.e. the weekend is six days away, so they can make all the necessary preparations) again adding, “and this time, you little miss, get to stay here.”

“Weally?” her lisp clenches Mattsukawa’s heart as he waves to her, and when she waves from her car seat, she notices the nice young man and her have the same crooked “:V” smile.

Sure, discovering your cheating ex had a child out of wedlock making you a father at twenty one is shocking enough on its own, but accepting responsibility for the past is how Mattsukawa prepares himself to pick up his daughter from the children’s home later that weekend. His parents toddler proof the house, chuckling about visiting the storage unit to pick up the old cabinet locks and playpen stair guard-gates that their son at the same age climbed over. Makki is the first one of his old teammates to find out the news, then Iwazumi, finally Oikawa. At first they didn’t believe Mattsukawa’s ex would a) conceal her pregnancy b) rob a store after blowing a guy outside a pharmacy just to steal snacks for her hungry baby and c) jump into a river when the cops broke into the trap house close to the nearest natural park.

Oikawa, asks to take a leave of absence when he gets a summons to the Miyagi family courthouse alongside Iwazumi, who makes travel arrangements to board the same flight as his best friend from LAX to Narita. Makki was already given his summons and he picks up a few morning shifts to cover the court date. The judge is a forgiving person once Mattsukawa Issei explains his side just like he did when the social worker handling his soon-to-be daughter’s case file, understandably so, the judge signs off the paperwork detailing the sole custody be granted to the child’s father (who for the first time in three years of tracking down potential matches, actually does sign the documents).

That same night as everyone arrives back to Mattsukawa’s childhood home, when Oikawa and Iwazumi wind up coming over to help the Mattsukawa’s turn the spare bedroom next to Issei’s into a nursery. Makki was on nightshift duty at the 7/11 where his coworker, Ka-sho stays up with him doing inventory work while watching classic B-horror films. Pretty soon, word gets out to the rest of the prominent Seijoh VBC alum the middle blocker had become a father under extenuating circumstances.

“Issei, there’s a black sedan out front,” Oikawa says, holding the step ladder steady for Iwazumi, who was putting a few cute star stickers above the changing station.

“Already? I thought they weren’t coming for another hour,” his mother panics in the kitchen, washing her hands as his father is left on stirring the congee (rice porridge) on the stove on her behalf. Mattsukawa steps outside first, the lights are on the porch already in the twilight hour.

“Sweetheart, we’re here,” she clings to the lapels of the social worker’s jacket. The little girl sniffles, but she is trying to be brave and no one faults her for sobbing a bit when the nice office worker, her first friend, says it’s time to let go and join this nice family: “see that man? Remember him?” she nods. “He’s your otōsan.”

The little girl looks similar to a loaf of bread adorned in her best overall dress and little Mary-Jane shoes when she loosens her hold on the social worker’s clothes when her father holds her for the first time.

“Call me if you ever need anything,” she bows to Mattsukawa and links pinkies with his daughter like a secret handshake before placing the suitcase filled with toys and well wishes from all kids at the house she lived in her whole life. Before long, the sedan leaves, and the little girl who is now so far from home glances up at her father, only to call him, “mista.”

A few minutes later, Mattsukawa walks in the house and when he sets his mini-me down, she grabs his pants legs. Oikawa chats with Makki and Iwazumi about current life abroad in the living room while Mattsukawa’s mother prepares the kitchen table complete with a little barstool she had custom made with booster-seat like belts when the windchimes attached to their screen door announce the arrival. Mattsukawa was always good with kids though that was at the volunteer center he frequented with the neighborhood obaa-san teams. The grannies were always bringing their children’s kids along so they can see why granny can still beat mommy (or daddy) in a fair match.

“Hi laang’ga,” his mother greets. Mattsukawa’s mother grew up abroad before returning to Japan, so she recalls a few terms of endearment from her childhood home in the Philippines. “Remember who I am?”

The little girl nods, murmuring, “obaa-san!”

“That’s right!” Mattsukawa breathes a sigh of relief. “And who am I?”

“Hmm…Oh! Mista!”

Iwazumi and Makki are biting back a laugh as his father says the congee is ready. Oikawa makes a joke as they watch their friend take on the first struggle of being a parent: trying to get their squirt to sit in their high chair/ booster seat. They watch as she uses her frog green plastic spoon her ‘goddofaza’ gave her as a ‘welcome home’ gift. Her sippy cup is filled with apple juice and she almost finishes her whole bowl while the family around her talk about everything they notice about the similarities first hand from the way the stare confused when someone calls their attention to the pout of indifference when one of Makki’s jokes doesn’t land. Although, the toddler stares at Oikawa like an owl does a mouse.

“She’s making those eyes again,” Oikawa said. “It’s like I’m reliving the first couple of years when Takeru was born.”

Eventually, as dinner is being cleaned up, Mattsukawa watches his daughter play in the living room with the new stuffed animals Makki bought and the little plush t-rex in her hands was obviously from Iwazumi who teaches her how to aim her plushies at Oikawa whenever the former captain says something silly.

“But ask me if it’s ok first,” Iwazumi whispers and the toddler bops her head as she chases Oikawa around, growling like a dinosaur.

“She likes you,” Mattsukawa’s father confides in his son as his wife sets up the dishwasher. “Though she doesn’t understand very much right now, she’s happy and healthy.”

“Thanks,” Issei says between a lopsided smile watching the scene before him. His daughter is two years old, almost three now (according to her birth records, meaning that he would have had been nineteen when she was conceived and up until that point, Mattsukawa only had slept with two other women before the girl’s mother was found in bed with another man at the hotel they were going to spend the night in since all the trains stopped service or the day). Issei is about to be twenty-one when he reflects back to the one night where shit literally hit the fan and he abandons his now confirmed ex-girlfriend in a very much crowded train station.

What grounds him presently is the laughter she emits when Iwazumi gives her the ‘ok’ to tackle Oikawa to the ground. There is a soft thud and Oikawa pretends to ‘nap’ i.e. ‘die from lack of hugs.’ Makki pouts asking when it is his turn and Iwazumi just shakes his head. Before long, the grandfather clock complete with a little cuckoo-chime announces the hour. Rising up off the floor, the grown friends get ready to say to their good nights with promises of coming back the day after tomorrow to play again with their niece.

The house is quieter now, with his parents going to bed early, Mattsukawa Issei finally has some time alone with his now drowsy daughter. Play-fighting against Oikawa and Makki takes a lot of energy especially since Iwazumi was the one on her team; thanks to Iwazumi, the little miss tires herself out by the time the last of them arrive back to their respective childhood homes. Mattsukawa’s daughter currently falls asleep, holding on to her father’s shirt with one hand and sucking her thumb with the other.

“Otosan,” the small sleepy child whispers with a sly smile before she feels her father trace her nose bidding her sweet dreams.

[2018, 10th of June, Miyagi Prefecture]

Mattsukawa Erina and her otosan visit Makki at the convenience store he works in. Iwazumi’s birthday is today, so during the part-timer’s break, Makki asks if his coworker can snap a pic of the three of them to send via text. Ka-Sho has been receiving orders in the daytime as a favor for their store manager who’s away on leave for the summer. Her camera is much better than Makki’s at the time, so she sends a copy of it to Mattsukawa’s cell.

“Erina-chibi is so cute,” Makki whines. “Isn't my goddaughter the best?”

“She may be your goddaughter Taka-kun, but she likes me more, right?” Ka-sho bribes the toddler with her favorite beverage: apple juice (specifically the one carton from behind the cash register).

Erina sticks out her tongue at her goddofaza while Ka-sho pierces the little box. Mattsukawa comes back from gathering a few things from the stationary aisle including a new stamp pad. Ka-sho asks Makki to ring up his friend since there was a slight furrow in his friend’s brow.

“Come with me darlin’. I got some coloring books and crayons in my office. Seems like Uncle Makki and your otosan need to talk..”

The now three-nager personality let’s the nice “boss” (“baws lady!” is the little one’s nicknames) auntie show her to where those coloring books were.

In the eight months Mattsukawa discovered he was a father, he began working harder to make sure he had enough saved up for emergencies and eventually his own place. Of course the first couple of days back at his fellowship in the funeral home was a bit awkward since the family who ran the shop allowed him to start right away with organizing and digitizing the files from the last ten years or so. The overtime bonus amount reflected on his check just in time to buy his daughter he first strawberry sweet roll cake two months into raising her. Sure his parents help when they can and so does Makki, and in a surprise turn of events, Kunimi stops by every once in a while to check up on the family overall. By month six, Issei’s daughter had started to experience some complications with her breathing on the playground, mentioning bad people tried to take her away. Mattsukawa’s mother calls the number on the business card from the social worker’s office whom said she’ll forward the medical documents from the children’s home when they locate the information.

“Doctor visits already?” Makki says looking over his shoulder watching Ka-Sho color alongside his god daughter. “Issei, whatever you need, just call me or the store, Ka-sho cares about your kid too.”

“Thanks man.”

“No problem. Now, back to business,” Makki charges the stamp pad and hands back the 50 yen coin change back to his friend.

Diagonally across them in the next plaza, a young member of a local yazuka chapter observes the illegal activities from the old auto warehouse turned chemist lab. The earring with a cross dangles off their lobe while their orders for reconnaissance only, no weapons necessary, is recorded for the narcotics dispatch crew back home in Okinawa.

“Good work Viper,” the division captain says in your ear wig. “Remember while you’re still undercover, you do not engage until a civilian's life is in danger.”

The train behind where the ominous person with the earring passes, thus covering their getaway.

[2018, 19 August, Miyagi Prefecture]

Mattsukawa Issei is a man of many talents. One could argue he is reserved and polite for a man his age who is doing the best he can to provide for a toddler. As best he can for a single father for a little over a year now. One year and two weeks to be precise. Makki, his closest friend and confidant, has been subsequently promoted to best uncle whereas the other internationally ranked friends from the Seijoh VBC Quartet have visited home every time the season draws to a close. With the exception of Oikawa, who leads team Argentina to the medal rounds for La Copa Munidial en Volleybol. Ka-sho has officially joined this predominantly male family mentioning Erina can’t always be raised by her otosan and obaa-san, but when Makki is caught kissing her temple late one night before she takes her leave, their relationship is put on blast. Oikawa mutters an “I knew it!” whereas Iwazumi shrugs his shoulders and Erina blinks processing what this means.

“Ne! Shoko-san,” she fiddles with her thumbs. “Can I call you auntie for realzies now?”

Mattsukawa chortles when Makki’s girlfriend picks up his daughter and hugs her tightly saying, “Of course sweet cheeks.”

Ka-sho, who’s name is only said properly by the youngest member of this wonderfully growing family, hears her phone ring again. When she answers it, she hangs up and hands the little girl back to her father.

“Sho? What’s wrong babe?” Makki notices when his the color of his girlfriend’s face dulls out a bit.

Mattsukawa’s father turns the tv on to watch the late night sports news broadcast only for it to be interrupted by a breaking news story: “Yakuza declares War against City Police in Kitsune Shopping Mall where the abandoned auto warehouse rumoured to be a chemist-methamphetamine-lab explodes just moments ago.”

Ka-sho repeats the name of someone over and over again waiting for the ribbon with the list of victims and survivors begin to roll underneath the news anchor’s desk. Pretty soon, dispatch sends a neighborhood SUV to Mattsukawa's home.

“‘Evning guys,”a familiar captain wearing a detective’s badge greets them in the family den.

“Sawamura-san?”

The detective nods. Shortly after his arrival, Mattsukawa excuses himself to tuck his daughter into bed. Erina is quiet because the policeman at the door seems to know something about why auntie Shoko looks scared. Issei thinks up a way to help explain what happened by picking up his daughter’s well loved bunny plushie in one hand and the t-rex by her nightlamp closest to her crib-turned-bed:

“Auntie Shoko’s one-san, yn, who works with the police making sure cities like ours stay safe,” he makes the bunny hop on her bed, causing his daughter to giggle. “She gets to play dress up and blends in with the bad guys.”

Issei wiggles the t-rex’s tail, his daughter nods along pretending she can keep up with his overly simplified playtime.

“What ‘bout the fiwe otosan?” her speech impediment is getting better as her teeth and tongue work with trying to pronounce “r” words. “Is auntie’s one-cchi ok?”

“We don’t know yet princess, but for right now, just know that your Auntie Ka-sho’s sister is one of the strongest women I know. Just like a little girl who’s up way past her bedtime,” he muses.

Mattsukawa kisses his daughter’s forehead before turning off the small lamp, the starry night stickers Iwazumi hung still glow against the lime green lava lamp Oikawa shipped for Christmas.

The door isn’t closed completely, but by the time Issei returns, Makki sends him a text saying he’s with Shoko who is heading to the general hospital close to where the building fire has thankfully been contained, the young father is given the bullet point version by the former Karasuno captain:

“Undercover assignments are risky,” the detective begins. “As I’m sure you’re well aware…Long story short, yazuka and gang unit were teamed up with Okinawa’s narcotics branch and every department sent some of their own undercover. Some, with delusions of grandeur, were bought by said chapters of these organized crime committees to turn a blind eye and fake reports left right and center. That was until earlier tonight where yn had to pledge fealty to the heads of all three executives by destroying the evidence in this prefecture. The fire was a warning meaning that her cover might have been made, but that is not the case considering how she’s currently being stitched up at the underground’s facilities. For now her orders from HQ are to lay low…”

Mattsukawa takes a seat on the couch’s armrest, trying to remember if he could recall Ka-sho ever mentioning her sister or her line of work. Then Issei suddenly remembers the photo frame by the register: there’s a school photo of Ka-sho and a girl a little taller than her at the time who was missing a tooth. The girls have their arms wrapped around each other like best friends. Ka-sho nor Makki don’t bring up the photo seeing as it might be a sore subject, yet recently, there is a sudden increase in the store’s coloring books and crayons selection. Ka-sho’s sister sends money back home every month to help her family make ends meet.

“Who else knows about this?”

“We’re going door to door reaffirming we’re doing our best to quell the vox populi that we have apprehended the culprit for the arson, whereas our brother stations are currently raiding the yakuza houses in the underbelly both here and in Okinawa prefecture.”

Sawamura bows, wishing them all a pleasant evening. Issei sees him out while his parents reassure the other that above all else, their son and grandchild take the top priority in the upcoming 90 days starting Monday for the curfews to be reinstated.

[2019, 1st Februrary, Okinawa Prefecture]

You wake up on the cold steel floor. Your hands and ankles are bound to the chair in the room where answers are beaten out of you piece by piece. Pledging fealty never was pretty, you reason. But this was a bit extreme. Your ribs were getting fractured for what seemed to be the third time this blue moon cycle. Ever since your sister found you in the alley with her boyfriend outside of sniper range, they get your wounds treated on the downlow. Ka-sho, behind closed doors in the emergency safehouse she has a spare key to, nurses you back to health. In the months leading up to Christmas, you and your sister reconnect, eventually you meet her strawberry blonde boyfriend on a gift shopping excursion. Your work phone goes off multiple times before you answer your superior that your orders to lay low came directly to the head anonymous boss-man, which causes an influx of ‘my apologies ma’am.’ Since the fire, you were accepted as one of their own, a mad-madame with a keen sense of weapons training thanks to being part of a black-ops mission during your brief stint in the military (to pay for law school).

“Work again?” your sister asks.

“Yeah,” you smile back, placing your burner phone face down so as to not answer it any time soon. Makki comes back from placing an order at the cafe nearby the video game store. You go through the older-sister notions of making sure this guy is treating little Kat-chan with respect.

You think about how her smile is ten times more brilliant when the door opens to reveal one of your former compatriots as your torturer of the day begins a new attempt in trying to break you.

Today’s the day you black out from the pain when you headbutt the prick who tries to force himself on you with a suicide pill in his teeth. Thankfully the bastard doesn’t bite it too hard when he stumbles backwards, so you fall backwards when he crushes your cheeks together cursing you out for being the boss’ golden child.

The days by the ocean blur together up until one day, close to Lunar New Year, your knuckles are bloodied and the hairline fracture on your jaw stops aching as much when you notice the sounds of firecrackers being lit. Except they weren’t firecrackers. The boss whom you serve under had an extraction party who were instructed to “light ‘em up boys” and to “bring back your upper ranking sister back home to Miyagi.”

Meanwhile, Sawamura updates Ka-sho as best he can with any news since her sister’s cryptic messages in the back of the coloring book’s sticky-notes stopped coming around the beginning of last December. This time though, when Sawamura asks to meet at the tea house on Third and Amistad Ave after hours, Makki asks Issei to come with them.

“Strength in numbers,” Issei says when Erina waves bye from the window of his parents’ house. Mattsukawa’s mother makes up an excuse about sending Issei out to buy more red envelopes before making sure her granddaughter begins her nightly routine.

At the tea house, Sawamura is spotted in a booth meant to hold six considering the size of the table, one could assume either this was a set up, or a very clever family reunion.

“Do you always rebel against my orders, Shoko?” Sawamura chuckles, recalling how his kouhai used to cost him best friend his sleep in college.

“You said to come alone, Dai. I did, with Makki and Issei for moral support,” she takes after her one-chan, just like Issei presumed after Makki goes out with him to the pub later. In his tipsy state of mind, Makki fills in the gaps of what Ka-sho’s sister is like, even joking how she’s a godly match for the funeral director. That statement alone makes Issei flag down the bartender to close out his friend’s tab, remarking if his friend asks for anything more, keep serving him ‘vodka tonics’ i.e. water on the rocks. The lie works just like it has for years since they were old enough to drink.

“You said to meet twenty minutes ago Sawamura,” your disembodied voice says when you approach the booth where four sets of eyes lock on to your sharply dressed body. Your butterfly suture on your brow and cut lip press into a thin line before squeezing into the booth to scold your fellow officer in arms.

“I thought you said no family,” you wave away two of your escorts who block the exits.

“You brought them?”

“Followed,” you smile fully once the lackey’s are clearly gone.

You all breathe a bit easier before your sister curses you out with her eyes.

“We‘ve been worried for months,” Ka-sho seethes. She goes on a rant and though she spews frantic nonsense, you act the same like you always do with the neutral face of displeasure. It’s quite an annoying habit, Makki notices just how expansive his girlfriend’s curses can be. Issei studies the menu whereas Sawamura flagged down a waiter asking for some claiming teas to be brewed in two kettles.

“Are you finished?”

Your voice betrays the ice in your veins. Makki whispers a comforting word to his girlfriend who essentially calms down. You ask her how she’s doing, if Makki is still treating her well, then asks about the tyke.

“You have secrets,” you turn toward Mattsukawa with a tired expression. “So do I.”

Sawamura’s been working on finding you a way out where you don’t cling to life like the last time, which did land you in the docks on a cargo container where information about how you pulled off starting a clan war uncovered the meth route in the slums actually paid off. Unfortunately, when back up tried to aid you in escaping the shipyard, you were backed into a corner, the cloned jump drive safely sucked in the hip elastic of your panties that day stayed undetected on the yarn attachment which left a unique bruise on your thigh when the torture began.

“So I’m sorry I couldn’t get to a pay phone, kid,” you say, playing with the tea cup on the table when the server came back with the tea kettles.

“Sorry I failed you,” he sighs, blowing the excess steam from his cup away.

Sawamura clears his throat as he begins pouring the tea into everyone’s cups.

“Not your fault,” you take the first sip. You stifle a yawn, claiming that the lackeys that accompanied you because their handler was under strict need to know about your personal life. Hence why when at your promotional dinner for rising in the ranks after taking out the dragons’ territorial route, the f•a•n•g• could take over. You continue to explain your part in the southern chapter of fang, known as Talon, and the deeper you go, the more deplorable the crimes become from drug trafficking to recruiting kids as young as six to be bought off their addicted parents as collateral.

Issei understands why you asked about his daughter when you bring this development to Sawamura’s attention. With slight of hand, you transfer the data from your third burner phone to his work line. The cushions vibrate when the trade was complete and Sawamura says he needed to use the boys’ room. You wait until Sawamura is out of sight before you have a chance to breathe easier.

Mattsukawa holds your hand under the table keeping it steadily out of the sight of Sawamura who doesn’t need to know you’re staying at the nearly furnished high rise by the funeral parlor he works at. Makki is the only one who figures it out one day when his girlfriend goes into work to update the shipping logs for the week.

“How long has this been going on?” your sister isn’t as skeptical as before anymore. She saw the way the father of her unofficially-official niece breathed a sigh of relief with a darkened blush creeping past his crisp collar.

“Around the first month after you were in the safe house,” Makki sheepishly confesses. “Mattsun tagged along saying he wanted some fresh air when I went to pick you up from there…”

“Can’t say I’m surprised big sis,” she says. “There could have been worse passions to choose from.”

“Brat,” you stick your tongue out.

“Bitch,” your sister stinks at you, laughing a few seconds later with you. The boys they’re with calm down to relax.

You down the rest of your tea when Sawamura returns, he reads the table and abruptly pays for the table’s tab. For that, Mattsukawa seems grateful, his hand squeezes yours eager to get ‘your back on any surface,’ he whispered against your ear when eyeing the yen notes on the table. You choke for real when you almost slap the chuckle out his eyes; he gets the last laugh though since you fall asleep before ‘sexy time.’ (Doesn’t stop him from enjoying watching you fall apart the following morning…)

“I can tell when I’m about to be the fifth wheel,” he chuckles until his laughter shakes his shoulders. “I’m the eldest of five kids and I’m sure you don’t need a chaperone… Shoot me a text whenever you need my help. See ya.”

…

“Oh! Mrs Mattsukawa’s throwing a party for Lunar New Year,” Makki mentioned in the car ride back to the newest condo bought by your boss as a reward for being grateful to the Talon family. Sure the wives of a few married men who made their living doing odd jobs for owning up to their botched fealty missions occupied the other apartments, but you enjoy the penthouse over-looking the suburbs by your old high school. You have a silent understanding with the boss that you do have a life outside of ‘the family’ and that you want to keep the underground dealings as separate as possible. For the most part, the days leading up to lunar new year was quite peaceful. The boss tells you to take all the time off you need and if you need to visit the warehouse before you go home for a sanctioned medical leave, to take whatever weapons you deemed fit on the slim chance the rival rogues make an attempt on those close to you.

“Fuck,” you groan rolling out of bed to silence the alarm on lunar New Year’s Eve.

Mattsukawa had cleared out yesterday for work while you were still asleep. You reassure him you’re fine, recalling how charming he was. In home dates were the best to keep him and you safe for the sake for the little girl who wa having a sleepover of her own at Makki’s place. Your hair was held in his hands gently like the first time you met; purely lustful physicality of his love made you whine back a version of his name. Mattsukawa makes you want to believe in the aftermath of this mission. You want him to make you undone by a stare; he hits he relishes in the fact no one in your line of work has had the privilege of being the reason there is friction in his sheets. His strength is making you feel so much better than you ever thought possible. Every bruise over your scarred body is treated lightly with him; even in the post glow, he traces your bare breasts where numbers tattooed over the seared bullet grazes reminds you both how dangerous this life is.

“And this one?” He asks, a crooked finger grazes a scar on your ribcage once you come back from brushing your teeth. His shirt hangs loosely unbuttoned around your frame. You slip your underwear back on. His are discarded at the moment and is replaced by plaid pajama shorts. The domesticity of this attire screams a plausible idea of what life could be like.

“The day I met Shoko,” you gauge his reaction as he makes space for you again on the bed. “Slums are no place for children, ‘sei.”

“How old were you when you escaped?”

“Umm… Seven? Eight maybe?”

You glance up at him when he holds you close like before, warming your back in kindness. He kisses the nape of your neck bidding you sleep well.

“Whatever happened between then and now, you’re here with me,” he pulls you closer until you turn to face him. You’re found sleeping comfortably like this when his father pries open the door to say that breakfast was ready, but he declines, mentioning to his wife to let their son sleep in.

That was almost five days ago since the tea party was on Monday.

Makki’s voice enters your subconscious and though you and Issei haven’t really had time to talk, you best cook your jets. You don’t make up a lie or anything of the sort when you have your subordinate pick up your dry cleaning. Today you honor your heritage when you wear a modestly boldly dyed hanfu. The family sent their best team of tailors who helped design this. Your sister wears another version where the buttons are clasped on her right by her collar. Makki whistles when she twirls on the front lawn.

“It’s good to see you dear,” Mrs Mattsukawa greets by placing the small ziplocks filled with grapes for the year on the picnic table her husband sets up. Inside the house Mattsukawa helps zip up the last layer on his daughter’s 4T yukata before cutting her loose to run outside and play in the snow with her obba-san and auntie Shoko. Ten minutes later, when the not so little toddler runs into your shin, you don’t wince. Rather, you watch her run along after she apologizes. Her father stands on the last step of the house, quite perplexed by what his daughter said when she runs back to him; he kneels down since this seemed urgent:

“Otosan! Otosan!”

“Yes baby?”

“There’s a princess in the yard!”

“That was probably auntie Shoko.”

His daughter puffs out her chest and her cheeks as she tries to describe you best she can.

“She has long pretty hair! ‘Nd she was wearin’ a pink and blue dress! Like auntie’s but longer!”

“But Erina, sweetheart, this is red, not—” your sister clocks you by the mailbox. You fiddle with the bow on your hanfu from the family seamstress. The higher ups in each division were given gifts from the head of the family; some asked for guns, others jewelry, you? You kept it simple: one hanfu modernly made to appease your ‘bloodline.’ The best part? None of the others would know where you were headed other than a handful (really just two) of chauffeurs assigned to your sector. “YN!?”

Makki is talking with you when you both come a little closer, the strawberry blonde formerly introduces you to Mattsukawa’s parents then the little girl who reminds you of a certain person you’re sort of unofficially dating…

“Everyone, this is Shoko’s sister.”

“Hello,” you greet. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m a last minute addition to the party ma’am, but I hope you don’t mind. Makki said his friends were nice people.”

“So formal, what a delight,” is what the Mattsukawa’s should of said. Of course Mattsukawa’s father knew that look his son wears, like a fool in love, they called it. This was a genuine one his mother mouths to her husband.

Instead, they have their son and ka-sho brought inside rather quickly. Makki gives you a look and you bow your head, sighing this was also a possible outcome. The family is joined by Makki inside who gets a harsh scolding as he defends your non-lethal approach since you were on medical leave.

“Makki, you should have mentioned that you invited my undercover cop older sister b e f o r e you bring her to my parents’ front yard.”

You’re smartly standing outside with your back to the window, the snow is a nice touch you think. You wonder if there will be fireworks in the neighborhood park later.

“Fine. I’ll do that next fine, but can we please go outside? I’m itching to have a snow ball fight right before the year’s over!”

Erina looks out the window while the adults talk like she can’t understand what they say and she takes matters into her own hands slipping out the front door. She’s as tall as her father was and with a little help, she unlocks the deadbolt and joins you on the patio.

You stay a safe distance away as you count a handful of hostiles when you turn your attention to the little girl. This is bad, very bad, so you watch her watch your eye movements and you pray they don’t cause too much damage around the house. You make a silent sign at the little girl to be quiet when you encourage her to go back to the house telling her you’ll be ok.

“I have business to take care of darlin’ miss,” you whisper the last line and the little girl who shared her father’s smile barely remembers what your look like from the first time you met, but the voice the cold knows and remembers make her mouth shut and nod eager to make an old-new-friend.

Something is wrong and Shoko can feel it in her bones when Erina locks the door, sniffling saying she got the nice pretty lady in trouble.

The sound of tires peeling out of the driveways a block away and your voice is heard until you are bound and gagged again.

“Don’t you dar-pft!”

Your hairpin collides with the cheek of the assailant. The blood from the point of impact trickles down your shoulder. The gag was made tighter this time and you glance back with eyes wide with a loathing sense of virtuous anger. Kidnapping you was part of the plan, but if you resisted, the barrel of the silencer is ice cold against your cheek, you were warned in the back of the getaway car.

“Sawamura! My-my sister,” Shoko grits her teeth as she speaks into Makki’s cell phone. She gives the details as best she can. Erina is held by her father who whispers it’ll he all right, that she’s safe here.

“The lady from earlier will be fine, sweetheart,” he says again. “She’s ko-Shi’a onesan remember?”

In the interim, you find out through your kidnapper that the negotiations for your death or release had begun and though you were burned by lackey number 9, you were thankful lackey 4 had more sense to shoot his partner and double cross him to prove his loyalty lies with you.

“I’m so glad I never fired you, kid,” you see a familiar set of green eyes stare back at you in the rear view mirror.

“Me too ma’am.”

You arrive at the entrance the river bank by the old power plant and tie a brick to the already parked ‘92 Oldsmobile. The corpse of number 9 had his face bashed in and his finger pads scraped off with a knife. Brutal, though it was, you are given a new cell phone with backup SIM storage thanks to this kid being a bit more savvy after uncovering your tea mission for rising up the ranks so quickly. The war went on as planned; Talon, a family he was a third generation member of, won control back of their original turf; and you get to celebrate the year of the tiger the moment you send a text to your sister’s phone with a selfie of you in a bloodied hanfu, the caption? Happy new year Shoko

“She’s ok,” Shoko tosses her phone to Issei and Makki who see the photo with the timestamp from five minutes ago. Sawamura, on his neighborhood patrol, pouts out a BOLO for a sedan with a poor incomplete description ten minutes later from his desk.

As for you? You’re in your official car, lighting up your e-cigarette telling your newly promoted Fourth Chauffeur to head back to the neighborhood he tailed you from.

“Oh, and send the cleaning crew to the following houses you spotted the sleepers in. That family and all subsequent friends and acquaintances are to be protected. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, and one more thing Tadashi-kun,” you say as you’re stepping out of the car. “Remember the motto.”

“Shoot first, die later.”

You tap the top of the car and he speeds off into the night. Your brain replays the plan from the night at the tea house. And for once, the plan to extract you and give you an early pension from the Okinawa Justice Department was well worth the welcome back to the front yard. Makki finishes giving his statement to the police after Shoko answers a few more questions; Erina’s testimony is the most direct and she remembers the pretty lady with the pretty dress picking her up from the floor of the house where her mother left her behind to find some formula.

“She was pretty and tall…like the princess in the snow!” Issei furrows his brows and apologizes for his daughter’s testimony, but the officer mentions it’s alright since this is how children often cope with traumatic events.

“What happened here?” you ask one of the officers.

“We got a call from emergency services that a woman fitting your…wait, were you?”

“Suzu!”

Erina slips out of her father’s hold and runs across the yard when she sees you again. Shoko is closest to where she sees and hears the kid call out the nickname your father gave you when you were not that much older than Erina.

“Erina! You can’t keep—” Mattsukawa’s mother freezes when she sees how elated her granddaughter is to see you. Issei turns around after saying he signed his daughter's witness statement to hear her voice greet you.

“I knew you’d come find me!”

You pick her up and the four year old grips the materials of your hanfu.

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” you apologize after placing her back down on the ground. She takes you by your hand when you ask her to introduce her to everyone.

“This is my obaa-san; goddozo Makki; Auntie Shoko; Gramps,” she pauses before stopping in front of her father. “Otosan! This is my momma’s bestest friend! She helped feed me and take care of me when momma and her lived in the streets!”

Mattsukawa Issei doesn’t cry very often, hell the last time he cried was when he was in high school and oikawa had his emotional outburst. Now, he sees the person who kept his daughter safe from the beginning and all he could do was cry when he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Shh, it’s ok,” you’re good at consoling people. Always were.

“Crap I think I’m going to cry too,” Makki says when he hears his girlfriend sniffle too.

“Eri’s a brave girl, Issei,” you run your hands in his hair. “She gets it from me, most likely after all, her mom let me raise her when she relinquished her rights to be a parent. Ever noticed that the odd numbered pages were missing from the court documents?”

You have a hidden laughter behind your eyes, Issei sees it when you gently pull his face back via moving your hands to cup his face. Tear streaks and all, you give him a warm smile, thumbing the last few away.

“That was you, huh?” His slightly chapped lips pressed against the space where your palm and wrist meet.

Meanwhile, while the officers take a few photos of the aftermath, one of the beat cops says it’s time to go, since you’re not done yet.

“Duty calls babe,” you kiss his cheek and walk up to where your sister was answering some ‘does otosan like ms yn?’ type questions.

“Five minutes ma’am,” the same officer says. You wave behind your shoulder attaining you heard him.

“Well, that depends,” Ka-sho sees you approaching. A tired smile on your face. Not yet, you just got here, her inner child whines on in her head.

“On what?” Erina tilts her head to one side, curious expression on her brow.

“If she likes him too.”

“You can ask me y’ know,” you wave while still standing by the porch steps where they were. “But first, I have to go with these guys. Remember Mr detective?”

The four year old nods, “the one that told you about my momma.”

“Mmhm. He needs me to give my report at the station so you can enjoy the fireworks,” you kneel down on the middle step.

“Ok!” Erina smiles with her teeth exposed too, making you chuckle a bit. “Will you come back home soon?”

She hugs you tightly when you wrap an arm around her too saying you promise to be back to enjoy the moon cakes.

“Miss? Chief says it’s time.”

“Be good,” you whisper against the girl’s hair before you press a kiss before you rise up and walk tall.

You don’t turn back because if you did, you would not have any strength left to go through with the other half of the “out” deal—witness protection.

…

[2019, 4th birthday Mattsukawa Erina, Tokyo Disneyland]

“Takeru! Let’s go on the merry-go-round again!”

Erina wears a new shirt with her favorite heroes on them and her leggings that she’ll outgrow by the winter. Her uncle Tooru is visiting for a week since his nephew is venerating being invited to the all Japan volleyball camp (again) this year.

Since the Lunar New Year incident, no one has heard a word from you. Your sister barely gets hints out of Sawamura, although Makki says she gets salty if the detective drops by without warning during receiving days. Iwazumi travels home during the summer after training the new recruits for this year’s National team. Erina’s at the park with Mattsukawa’s father while Iwazumi sits down in the living room waiting for the fourth member to arrive with both Makki and Shoko (it was Makki’s turn to pick up Oikawa.) the friendship tea brewing on the stove, the kettle whistles and Shoko assists in preparing the mugs with Mattsukawa.

“It seems pretty serious considering you’re not an avid tea drinker,” iwazumi observes eyeing his friend. This is the third year since little Erina joined their ever-growing family , since there is a new promise ring sitting nicely on your sister’s hand.

“Hey, did you know I have an older sister who’s a cop in Okinawa?” Ka-sho changed the subject efficiently.

“Really now?” Oikawa raises his eyebrow.

“What division?” Iwazumi takes his first sip.

“Narcotics,” your sister pretty much starts your story from the beginning. Elsewhere, in the family photo album, in the spare pocket big enough for a flash drive, a completed copy of the family court papers of saved: your name is listed as legal guardian and parent next to Mattsukawa’s signature stating the same thing.

“How long have you been standing there one-chan?” The delivery driver is currently knocked out thanks to a sleeper hold from a few weeks ago.

“Long enough for you to see I’m back home in one piece,” you have a scrape covered up by a square bandage.

“Yn,” you remind her to keep her distance. “They’re asking about you. Come home.”

“I can’t,” you don’t mention the why until you’re clearly outside talon and Sawamura’s jurisdiction before your sisters phone vibrates with your orders to enter witness protection while still continuing in deep cover missions as a specified sanctioned mole for the family you are heavily advised to join.

“So that’s why she’s not here,” Ka-sho says. Her tea is cold now too. Issei stands abruptly mentioning something or other about forgiving yn, but he remembers all the cute things Erina has been receiving in her pre-school locker and one of them was a paper crane.

“The kid made a friend today,” he says. “Called her little bird when they were at the park for a play date. Mom told me she saw a lady with sleek teal ombré hair waving at her before she was joined by her chauffeur who handed her an ice cream bar and then they left…”

“You’re sister’s a hell of a saint,” Makki says, giving her a small grin.

“Any questions?” your sister was always business orientated and Oikawa shoots his hand straight up.

“Is yn yakuza now?”

“I suppose so,” Ka-sho sighs. “Sawamura-san says if there is word, he’s call us asap.”

She gives Issei a sympathetic stare.

“It’s not like you can’t stop loving her either, Mattsun,” she gives him a hopeful smile. “One-san was the most reliable one between us; she is strict, disciplined to a fault, and her tactics are sharpened through her quick wit. There has to be a reason why your daughter formed a strong bond with yn-cchi.”

“Aside from keeping my daughter alive while her mother went out to get some ass, I’d say that’s a hell of a solid reason my daughter cries to sleep asking when ‘Suzu’ is coming home, eh, Ka-sho?”

Mattsukawa’s words hold no anger nor bite to them; he voices his opinions of worry and care under the darkening circles underneath the corners of his brows, the wrinkles where you made him laugh the first time you wandered into the funeral parlor for directions to the market under the guise of being new to this side of the prefecture are now barely visible. Instead, frown lines form when his lips return to a neutral downturned lax emotion. Makki suggests his friend goes to bed early tonight. Oikawa and Iwazumi concur and Mattsukawa ran a hand through his out frown haircut, he concurs. He nods his good night to the group who, twenty to thirty minutes later, discover the father and daughter duo sharing a tatami play mat large with enough room for one more.

Ka-sho sneaks a photo after hearing the two snore on turns before she hits save to cloud.

Somewhere in the red light district, your personal droid powered personal line vibrates at the club you’re in. You excuse yourself from the business negotiations Tadashi’s father attends while testing the merchandise first hand (a woman dances and shows off her…’assets’ and you roll your eyes) whispering it was family proper. He waves a jeweled hand saying to take your leave because “I don’t need a babysitter when I’m enjoying the dance.”

You nod before walking to the backside of the club’s stage. Other burlesque dancers were passing by, some between costumes, others were sans bra and pasties, whole titties were freely bouncing, making you go blind to the type of store this was. Regardless, when you’re at a safe distance away, you unlock the phone and you receive a file with photos from the last couple of weeks. The latest one your sister sends has the caption, “he misses you too (a lot more than you know).”

You delete the photos right away in case your phone is being tracked for new encrypted data.

Come morning, the man who shares the same sharp eyes as your newly promoted personal chauffeur, leaves the club praising the Madame for taking care of his shipment. First successful mission was breaking up and starting a tribunal war for the drug route by Talon; this time, your orders from the brass themselves, was to infiltrate the higher commanders of the organization to confirm whether or not money laundering in the red light district was still the main source of activity or if the dancers hired were also victims of the much larger crime: trafficking. You were in so deep now that none of your fellow ‘yakuza brothers’ minded of you disappear for days at a time; they knew you probably were getting fucked (or fucked up) since they too experienced the dry spells. For as long as you come back when you’re told and leave after completed missions, the boss and your brothers in the lower ranks in command were ok with you coming and going as you please.

…

[2019, 30th December, Miyagi Prefecture]

The snow is freshly new. Mattsukawa Erina wears her bright Air Force 1’s as she throws fistfuls of snow at her strawberry blonde godfather. On her left, Oikawa’s nephew, Takeru is her ‘heavy’ support like in those Team Fortress 2 games while her auntie Shoko tries to “capture the flag” from the enemy camp. Oikawa drew the shortest straw after lunch, meaning he was on Iwazumi and Mattsukawa’s team. A three on three snowball fight mixed with the rules of capture the flag, made for a fit of giggles when Erina pelts her godfather’s back screaming in victory. Makki fakes death as he tries to crawl to where Takeru ties their team’s blue bandana.

“I won!” The child gloats for a few minutes before a familiar shadow is spotted by a magnolia tree across the way. The girl who looks so much like her father has the hope of her mother’s friendship in her veins; the distant sounds of a temple’s bells are heard signaling the quarter past hour.

“Ma’am, the little miss is staring,” your chauffeur sort of chuckles.

“How do I look?” You question fiddling with the jacket drapes around your shoulders.

“Like a ghost madam,” Tadashi gives you a curt nod you catch on the rear view. “The acid burn from your contract mission healed quite nicely.”

“So it seems, Tada-kun,” you glance over at the large plush bunny on your lap. The scarred flesh stemming from your shoulder to your neck is hidden beneath foundations meant to coverup tattoos according to the fashion label. It does a good job especially on days like today.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, instruct him to be your proxy for all activities and only to call your personal line if the rat has been found. Double crossing isn’t always fun, but unlike the rest of Talon, you tip the scales in your favor blindly.

“Call me whenever you’re ready to be picked up, oh,” your driver says one more thing. “If we ever cross paths again, I’m glad to have known the incomparable ‘steel bullet.’”

“Likewise. Be good and live,” you shake his hand prior to stepping out of the vehicle.

Meanwhile, your sister spots you first this time: she squints as the same car from a year prior drives by the main road leading back to the elementary schools. She knows that sedan and decides to call it a draw for right now; Makki notices the tidal shift in the way his soon-to-be fiancé suggests nap time for his niece. Takeru takes his partner in crime inside with the promise of reading to young Erin’s the tales of a nutcracker, princess, and a mouse.

“Hey, I thought the objective was to capture the flag, not send in a man or two…?” Oikawa whines.

“We’re being watched,” Ka-sho who had seemed blunt before was now more direct. Her eyes roll to the left where in the neighbor’s yard, you stand solo with the plush bunny in your arms. The jingle bell collar chimes as you raise a hand to greet them.

Mattsukawa’s throat is suddenly dry, yet he remains appalled at the distance his feet seem to have him cover. His legs hasn’t been this exhausted since the last game he played with his daughter. Perhaps he’s losing his touch, his subconscious thinks. You’re already galavanting across the street, glancing to your left, then your right as the bunny floats in the air behind you. Slowly, your mutual friends walk back inside giving the funeral director some much deserved privacy.

Inside the house, Erina watches from the window while her goddofazas and auntie observe the blissful exchange.

“See! Suzu really likes my otosan,” she puffs out her chest as proof of being right.

“She loves you though,” her auntie, your sister, ruffles her hair. “Now, what about continuing our game of capture the flag hmm? Seems like Takeru and your goddofaza need some help taking on Iwa & Oikawa too…”

The window remains a frame of the outside where both the friend of death and his newest light are fated to meet:

You bound up to each other and as though on instinct, he envelopes you in the warmth of his arms. He’s a furnace you cannot escape nor did he want you to. You’re comfortably like this surely because it seems like the prodigal daughter does come knocking when the winter season warrants her arrival before the spring. Your hair smelled of peppermints and the sea; he smelled of candied apples and cinnamon brooms. He grips the back of your jacket just to make sure the body underneath his real.

“When?”

His lips graze your jawline. His stubble tickles you, it’s as magical as one can imagine. Reuniting with familiar faces and family is what the holidays are about, not necessarily the presents—just don’t tell the kids in the house.

“Just arrived this morning loverboy,” you breathe into his shoulder. “Missed me much?”

You don’t have to ask the man in front of you if he did—he’s too busy pressing his lips on your hairline to formulate a proper answer. He longed for days like right now where his anxieties of being a good empath would lead you back home.

“We.”

You kiss him once on the lips.

“Should.”

He says in a voice more innocent than the holy dragons guarding the temple close by.

“Go.”

You wink up at him, standing. your toes, waving the bunny’s arm in one hand from your side.

“Inside.”

Curious hands, rough with callouses from both the chemicals to dress up the dead and playing with his daughter at the park’s swings, are quite quaint with a wonton need to draw you impossibly closer to him before he meets you halfway to welcome you back to your hometown. Glory to the slums, your sister used to preach every Saturday morning you found yourselves above ground. Like today, there are traditions well upkept like the red envelopes. Or the fact that you’re in the domain of your friend’s ex-lover who is doing the best he can with surviving the holidays with the rest of his friends from high school (and his young adult life).

There is a gentle breeze above you and even if it’s not enough to shake the leaves with the snow puffs like in all those movies about rebels falling in love, the remnants are caught in your hair; his is littered in turn as well, black and white was always the status quo. Lips chapped by the weather teasingly leave you gasping when one of his hands tilts your chin to the side to feel for newer scars. Rough finger pads roam higher, the burnt flesh on your shoulder makes him frown. The job you have is dangerous; the job he has in the city is enough to keep him and Erin afloat, you have to remind him every day at least once since there are days where Mattsukawa needs to relearn what made him strong. For the time being, as love and death embrace, you communicate through a final revelation. Your lips ghost over his instructing him to close his eyes and to, “focus on my touches.” These intimate ministrations where physical touch is your love language are replaced by his words of affirmation and acts of service.

“You are loved,” the words never leave his vocal chords as your eyes are lost in his that afternoon. Rather, Mattsukawa presses his forehead against yours soaking up the atmosphere around you two. You, at the age of twenty-nine, face the person who decides that home is a state of mind where all are welcome regardless of being six feet above ground or not. Mattsukawa Issei is about to say something he thought he would had to reserve falling in love for another special lady down the line as his daughter grows up around strong independent women (apart from her uniquely talented godfathers).

“Tadaima,” you say, nudging your nose against his.

Scalding homely smiles show off your canines. You compliment his choice of footwear, the NIKE checkmark on the back of the classic running shoes makes you chortle. He notes the plushie with collar, you mention it’s for a friend, “she’s about this tall, long black curls down to her shoulders…oh! And her father seems to like NIKE Air Force 1’s so much so they bought matching pairs for lunar new year…know anyone like that?”

“Okeri,” his welcome ignites a flurry of warmth between your clothed bodies. “And yes, yes I do silly girl.”

Mattsukawa Issei, twenty-eight years old, makes his emotions hang in the tension he buiilds before he plays with all his cards in his hands.

“Eyes on me beautiful,” his voice draws you to open your eyes slightly right as you allow him to slide his lips atop your own. You don’t despise this one bit. You never could even if yuo tried since of all of the kisses shared between you both, the one where he kisses your brow to signify you should warm up by the kotatsu since he steals a glance at your footwear, thus saying with a teasing glint in his eye that your shoes aren’t any better.

#sora scribbles

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#sora scribbles