Chapter Text
In the country that greets the sun first as it rises from the darkness of the world, a sakura tree blooms in the depths of winter. Soft pink buds unfurl as the flower greets the snow. Sousuke Yamazaki watched each nip bloom, rippling open from each branch. A wind blew and shook the tree, coaxing it to release the flowers from its stems. Sousuke watched with amazement, wondered how hard the wind would have to blow until a single blossom fell and touched him.
How beautiful, he thought as he stared at the gray and cloud covered sky with the delicate snow falling, flake by flake. The pink stood out in the drab world, almost glaringly so. It was much too saturated, too colorful for the middle of winter.
How beautiful, Sousuke thought, How cruel. Why would something want to bloom during a time when it had no chances of surviving? Why would it want to exist in a world of eternal cold? The snow flakes dropped on his cheeks, his arms, his exposed chest. The ice stung against his body. If he looked he was sure his body was rotting, turning purple and being burned from the chill.
Though despite his numbing body, Sousuke continued to watch the sakura tree continue to bloom. A weak smile crossed his lips. “If I’m going to die, I suppose it’s not so bad dying while watching you,” he spoke. His voice was hoarse and raspy, grating the cold air. His eyelids were beginning to feel heavier and heavier with fatigue. His heart beat throbbed much too slow and even the icy flakes did nothing to him as they fell incessantly.
As his eyes were about to close, shut finally, sleep finally, a voice rang out, “Who says you’re going to die?” The tone was unfamiliar, such a calm and strong voice. Concern laced itself between each word. “Who says I’m going to let you die?”
Sousuke tried to stop his eyes from closing shut. He stared at the sakura tree, its body smooth and a rich brown. The flowers became pinker and brighter the longer he stared. Was the tree talking to me?
“I’m going to start him on his IVs now,” the tree spoke again.
A south wind began to blow, violent this time shaking the branches, waking it. Some buds fell and drifted down to Sousuke’s arms. The petals pricked his skin, a terrible sting, letting the cold into his veins. Then the small buds twisted themselves into the small opening. His hands clenched themselves, turning themselves to fists by his side. He opened his mouth, tried to groan, scream, anything to ease the uncomfortable movement of the flowers slithering under his skin, mingling with his blood, going against its flow.
A gentle breeze brushed his face. So warm, so heavy. “That’s good, but his temperature is pretty high,” the voice of the tree spoke again.
“What do you mean that’s good? There’s a fucking bullet in him. Can’t you fucking get it out now?” Sousuke’s ears pricked. The tone was familiar, the swearing more so. Uozumi? His head couldn’t move, but he couldn’t even see a shadow in the midst of the winter storm.
Sousuke saw nothing. Nothing except the white of the snow, the gray of the sky and the sakura tree.
“We can’t do that in here. We have to wait until we reach the hospital first.”
Hospital? Sousuke heard Uozumi scoffed, but was silent thereafter. Hospital, hospital. He stared at the tree before him, large and unwavering with its thin branches stretching out, scraping the heavens.
He remembered finally. He remembered stepping out of the car, remembered one of the guys shouting a quick second after, remembered a sound. It sounded like fireworks being shot next to his ear, and his chest exploded with pain. Sousuke remembered stumbling back, remembered the stars look so clear and bright in Tokyo’s skies where one would normally would see nothing in the night sky except the moon, and even then it was hazy in its vividness.
Ah, he was shot. And this is a dream. Sousuke laughed, maybe he laughed in the real world too. How fucking cruel.
• • •
Beeeep.
Beeeep.
Beeeep.
Beeeep.
Beeeep.
Sousuke grabbed the pillow beneath his head and tried pulling it over his ears. A pang jolted through his arm and his chest squeezed. Flinching, his eyes flickered open to a room too bright, a room not his. It smelled of disinfectants and lime-scented polished floors. The arm closest to his face had a white information tag on it. A hospital.
“Ah, I got shot,” Sousuke mumbled his realization.
A chair scraped against the linoleum floors and gripped tightly onto his shoulder. “Boss, you okay? Should I call the nurse?”
Rolling over, Sousuke released the grip of his pillow and laid on his back again. He stared at Uozumi’s face, etched with concern, his undercut hair mused with his fingers indicated that he clearly haven’t showered for days probably by how unkempt it looked.
He waved his hand, gesturing he was okay though his chest did throb. Probably where the gunshot was.
“Uozumi, I need a smoke. Take me outside.” Sousuke said as he slowly lifted himself off of the bed.
The man hesitated for a moment, staring at his boss bewildered. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, boss. You just woke up and yo—”
Teal eyes flickered to the undercut lackey, glaring at him. The look sliced through the words that almost tried to slip out. “I need a fucking smoke, so help me or else I’ll do it myself.”
Uozumi nervously swallowed the lump at the back of his throat before he stumbled over to get the wheelchair from across the room and wheel it to the bed. Sousuke began pulling off the tabs and wires that connected him to the EKG machine. No longer did it beep with the rhythm of his heart. It gave a deafening ring, a flatline.
The wheels of the chair were silent as they rolled down the hallways. Nurses and patients bustled throughout the corridor. Some of them caught a glimpse of Sousuke and quickly turned to their colleague to whisper. Sometimes he wondered if they knew who they were whispering about? A man who had someone else count his money for him, who wrapped his fingers around others’ necks to collect a debt. A man who sat in the shadows and watch power, greed, lust, and pride pluck their strings in others, sometimes within himself too.
Would they whisper with so much glee in their tones and delicate blushes on their cheeks?
Sousuke ducked his gaze, tired of everyone else’s movements and thoughts. They flooded him until he could no longer think to himself. In a low voice, but clear enough for Uozumi to hear, Sousuke asked, ‘“Do we have any details on who shot me?”
“None. The guys are out looking for the brat now. Boss, you don’t think another group is trying to send a hit after you, do you?”
Sousuke sighed, his hand clutching his chest through the thin hospital gown. The pain throbbed weakly, but slowly and steadily. If they managed to catch the arrogant bastard that did this, and maybe the one who called the hit in the first place, would the ache subside? Would he go back to how he was before? Another yakuza leader pulling the strings of sin in others and being pulled himself?
Fuck, his head began to throb. He just needed a cigarette right now.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed! Takuya-san, I told you that he needed to rest.” It was the voice of the tree. The one that whispered to him, I’m not going to let you die. Sousuke quickly lifted his head and was greeted with a man with brown hair, eyes that held the color of a jade stone, green and endless. He wore a blue uniform, a cop? Looking closer, Sousuke noticed the Rod of Asclepius symbol on one of his patches displayed on his fitted and snug bomber jackets, a paramedic.
“I’m sorry. I tried, but he’s a very…convincing man,” Uozumi answered with a weak laughter, obviously forced and nervous.
The man’s lips curved into a frown, who knew such expressions could look so strange on someone’s face. He doesn’t have a face for frowning, Sousuke thought. He has a face that looks better with a smile. A smile blooming on his face, blossoming until it reached those jade colored eyes.
A smile that can only blossom.
The man reached out and held his fingers against Sousuke’s arm, feeling for his pulse. Ah, there are those warm and solid hands again. He had always been one to bruise easily on his arms. “Your heart beat is a bit fast.” There, there was that unfamiliar tone of concern. It sounded like the gentle rings of chimes during the summer months with the gentle breeze, sounded like the glee of someone who runs out in the rain after a year of drought. “You should probably head back to the room.”
“Just one quick smoke,” Sousuke answered. The ends of his lips curled upwards as he locked eyes with the man. “If you’re really worried about my health, you can join me and Uozumi.”
Why did he invite him? His eyes continued to watch, steadily, almost trying to lure the gentle man in. Why? Why did he want him to enter this dangerous path that could leave only scars on the body and paranoia ticking against the mind? Why did Sousuke want him to so badly want to walk with him in this underworld where the sun could never reach, where winter was the only season?
Why?
Why?
Why?
With a sigh, the man nodded once. “Okay, okay, I’ll join you, but only to make sure you’ll be fine. It’s dangerous, you know.”
Sousuke grinned. “I know. I knew from the beginning.” Of course his words caused the man to raise a brow, confused. He motioned for Uozumi to continue pushing him to the smoking area outside that overlooked the garden of the hospital. “I’m Yamazaki Sousuke, what’s your name?”
“Tachibana Makoto.”
Makoto.
Sincerity.
Truth.
Truth that he could never reach.
Sincerity and compassion that he never felt.
Makoto, the voice of the tree that bloomed in the winter.