Whether she was being genuine or whether she was kidding herself just like I was, I couldn't tell. If she was fishing for something, I was more than willing to be caught. "I get it. I'll sleep on the couch, make sure no one is looking for you."

She went to bed, and I took her previous offer of using her shower, whether it was still a valid offer or not. I was covered in sweat, dirt from the club, old hair spray, and it felt like committing a crime being dressed in clean clothes with such filthy skin underneath. It was hard not to take notice of how all her shower products smelled of different flowers, but I told myself to just be grateful for the opportunity to get clean, and all the while thought of the pine tree scented deodorant I had tossed into my overnight bag.

I seated myself on the couch, scrolling through my phone messages, starting to read the reports coming in from the other group leaders. I would head the meeting the next day, leading the syndicate into the next steps while we took control of the entirety of Kabuki-cho and a few other smaller surrounding districts. I was worried about what the aftermath might be, but I finally had relief from the stress as the reports all came in with nothing outstanding to draw my attention. The acquisition of the Club Diamond franchise meant the end of laying low for the Oda-kai. Everyone would know about us and our control. Everyone would start to understand just who we were as people. It was a turning point for the syndicate to take advantage of, and we would spend the next few years smoothing over relationships that were created through fear and threats.

All the while, Ito was crying. Finally, I got up to find her in the bedroom, laying atop the sheets and hugging a pillow to her chest and face. "You have to stop crying." I said to her. I tried to make my voice sound small. "Everything is fine. You didn't get hurt. You have a safe place to work now. In the morning, everything will be back to normal. I know it was scary, but it's all over now."

She sniffed gracelessly and wiped her face into the pillow. It was already wet from her crying into it. "I just keep thinking about it, and hearing the gunshots, and then I remember you're in my living room and it feels like I'm being held captive."

"Do you want me to go?" Standing in the doorway to her bedroom, looming as I was, gave me the same feeling, and I didn't like feeling such a way toward her. I discovered in that moment that the definition of 'protector' was not far away from that of 'captor'.

"No." She didn't miss a beat before answering. I was convinced that she trusted my presence to keep her safe, but whether she was sure if it was my presence alone or just who she knew I was, I didn't question.

"Okay, well." I climbed onto the bed and took the pillow out of her grasp, tossing it onto the floor. "You're going to ruin your skin putting your face on that thing. Come here."

I pulled her against me as I arranged myself into a half sitting up position against the other pillows. She didn't fight me as I wrapped my arms around her, guiding her to rest her head on my chest. She kept her fists balled up and tucked against her, as if protecting herself, but to my surprise I felt her body relax. I sighed deeply in spite of myself, feeling as if I had accomplished something meaningful, and yet I was giving myself all kinds of permission to act irrationally. Out of all the raids I had conducted, all the shootouts I had been part of, all the near death situations that I had put myself in, none of them had ever ended with someone still breathing in my arms.

When the sun rose, I opened my eyes to the sleeping face of Ito. Her eyelids were pink and puffy, speckled with flecks of deep red that spread across her cheeks as well where she had broken blood vessels from crying so hard. My arms were still around her, holding her back, but we had somehow shift to our sides facing each other during the night. Her arms were still against her chest between us, but her tight fists had relaxed. I could feel her breathing deeply, but I wasn't sure if she was peacefully sleeping or if she had simply exhausted herself.

It wasn't long before her eyes fluttered open, incidentally looking into mine. I smiled softly, but I didn't say anything, afraid to startle her. She sharply inhaled a breath and broke out of my hold, sitting up and moving slightly away from me. "Obata-san!" She wasn't quite addressing me so much as she was acknowledging that I was there.

I rolled to my back. My whole body ached. "Good morning."

"I'm so sorry." She said, hastily getting off the bed. She paused a moment to cover her face with her hands. I assumed her whole body ached as well, and that her eyes were burning. "I didn't mean to..."

"Ito-san, it's fine." I stopped her. I recognized the beginning of a ramble that was leading to an excuse. I didn't need to hear an excuse from her, I was making them just fine for myself. "I'm glad you finally got some sleep."

"Obata-san, I'm sorry. I feel like I disrespected you, I'm embarrassed." She didn't face me, keeping her hands over her eyes as she spoke. She was an entirely different person when the sun rose, the fear gone, replaced with the confidence that I recognized. Unpredictability was not a quality I respected in a woman, though. "You're second in command of a Yakuza syndicate, I shouldn't have made you stay to comfort me. I was acting like a child."

"Hey. It's fine." I wondered if testing her sense of humor would somehow lighten the heavy mood. "I get to choose who gets to disrespect me."

She looked over she shoulder at me, and I swore I could see a hint of a smile. "Let me make you coffee at least."

In the daylight, I took notice of the details of her apartment. Like mine, everything was painted white. The floors were light coloured laminate wood, and her furniture was sparse. The sheets and blankets on the bed were white. The bathroom was clean and bright, and the kitchen matched. Looking at the environment she lived in painted her like any ordinary college girl living on her own for the first time.

She set a coffee cup on the kitchen table, inviting me to sit while she rummaged in the fridge. "I don't have much left." She said. "I was going to do grocery shopping today."

"Don't worry about it. Let me take you out for breakfast after you get washed up." I saw her head appear over the top of the fridge door. "And stop calling me Obata-san, okay? No one calls me that except my men. My name is Kazuhide. Just call me Kazu."

It was a jump out of formality that she probably wasn't used to getting permission for. If I was honest with myself, we didn't know each other, and we had no connection outside of the familiarity of interacting with each other in common spaces. But I wasn't usually honest with myself, and I was loosening my reins significantly.

She sat down with me cautiously. "I'm Akari." She seemed to be considering something, so I let her. "Why are you being so kind to me? You made a point before, at the bar, to tell me all the terrible things about you, and now you just spent the whole night trying to convince me otherwise."

"What, Yakuza men can't be nice?" I earned a small laugh, but she covered her mouth with her hand to hide it and avoid spitting her coffee. "It's caused you a lot of trouble, meeting me. I'm not trying to get anything from you, I'm too old for you anyway. I just don't want to leave a bad impression if you ever think about me again after this."

"That is considerate of you, whether you're just trying to save face or not. I wouldn't want to think ill of a man I slept in the arms of." Her wit was returning to her. Her composure was returning. With every sip of coffee, she was transforming back into a woman who could take care of herself, right before my eyes. The fear on her face had vanished, and she seemed grounded again. It was as if as soon as the sun came up, I was a guest in her world, instead of the other way around. "Let me get cleaned up, I must look terrible. I'll take you up on the breakfast offer."

I couldn't remember what day it was. It was early in the morning when we left the apartment, just a little past eight. Ito had washed her face and brushed her hair while I used her kitchen sink to freshen myself up, which I felt took at least ten years of age off of me. Neither of bothered to change out of our sweat pants, and I took notice that we had almost matching high top sneakers on. The morning air was warm and humid with summer approaching, and I rarely experienced the day before noon. The streets were empty so early in Kabuki-cho, and we walked only a few blocks as I let Ito lead the way to where ever it was she wanted to go. I knew barely anything about breakfast.

"It's Sunday, so this place should be pretty empty. I come here a lot." She explained as she stopped outside of a small entryway of a cafe. "Do you have somewhere you need to be today?"

So it was Sunday. "The headquarters house at noon. It's just outside of the city, I have my men pick me up if I'm here. I don't like to leave my car in Kabuki-cho."

She nodded, but we didn't say anything else past that until we had sat down at a table, ordered, and the food arrived. The cafe was empty, as she predicted. Even wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt so loose that one shoulder slid down, Ito looked put together and lovely sitting across from me, trying to keep her long hair from falling into the plate of pancakes she had ordered. I found it strange to be in such a situation with such a woman only if I gave it my attention, so I gave my attention to my coffee instead.

"It's true what they say about men like you." She said to break the silence.

I laughed, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "It's true. We only wear suits. Designer, and sweat."

"You look good in sweatpants and a tank top." I had put my zippered hooded sweater on before we had left her apartment to cover my tattoos. The neckline of my shirt I knew was just a little too low, but since she had mentioned the place she was taking me would likely be empty, I didn't worry about it. "You mentioned that you wanted to leave a good impression like you were getting ready to say goodbye. Is this the last time I'm going to see you?"

I couldn't figure her out. Even as afraid of me as she had become the night before, she wanted me to stay with her. She still had trust for me. As if spending a night in my arms with complete innocence proved to her that I would do her no harm. That my life wouldn't spill over into hers any further. I knew better. "It should be." I told her. "But it's up to you whether you delete my number or keep it."

"Why do you assume I don't want you around? What's so terrible if I do?" Her voice was strong, asking such a bold question.

"I'm not assuming you don't want me around, I'm telling you that you shouldn't want me around. If you do, then you have to know nights like last night will happen again."

She put her utensils down and folded her arms across her chest. "So you tell me how dangerous you are and how scary your life is, then you spend all night telling me that I can trust you and being kind to me, now here you go telling me how dangerous your life is again, and how I shouldn't want to be around you, but it's also just entirely up to me."

"I just want you to understand what it's like being around me. It's confusing and scary and secretive and dangerous." It was beginning to feel like a normal conversation was unfolding between us again, and her view of me was returning to 'human' rather than 'demon'. "I have a feeling I know why you want to keep me around, even knowing what I'm really like, and I have to warn you to stop."

"I also have a feeling I know why you've been so kind to me, but I understand it might be a little complicated."

Whether it was too much coffee, whether it was too early, or whether I simply lost the desire to control my resolve, I had enough of it. I put my coffee down and stood up, putting one palm flat in the middle of the table so I could lean over. Without pausing, I balled the other hand in the collar of her shirt, and pulled her forward to meet me. I kissed her. Seriously. Forcefully. Right in the middle of the cafe. And she didn't try to pull away or stop me. She kissed me back like she had wanted me to do it since we first met.

I let her go and sat back down, retrieving my coffee like nothing happened. "Finish your breakfast." I said. "We'll talk about it later."