"What are you talking about?" (Y/n) asked, standing up and backing away from the livid brunette.

"I asked you if you missed him," Yamato repeated, appearing calm, but wanting more than anything to tear someone apart.

"Of course not!" she shivered, fearing when the brunette would explode in rage.

The yakuza heir took note of her terrified state and stood up, feeling not a hint of emotion except for the love he held for her. It was undeniable; that tingling, that warmth, that ecstasy he felt when he thought of her or was around her. It surpassed every other emotion and even when he tried to bury them under a facade, it was still there. He couldn't fight it, but he didn't care to. It was a feeling he'd kill to keep, and that was exactly what was on his mind.

Stalking calmly over to her, he held a small smile that was lacking true reason behind it. It only served as a purpose to alleviate the fear in the younger girl, something he hoped would put her at ease. However, it served as the opposite, appearing unnatural and more terrifying to her than if he had no expression at all. He closed her against the wall, pulling her waist into him and placing her head in the crook of his neck, petting her softly.

"I'm not mad at you, kitten," he cooed, giving her small shushes to calm her further, "And I'd never hurt you. The only thing I want to do to you is kiss and hold you. You deserve only the best."

The brunette left an awkward gap in the conversation, leaving silence to fill the wake he left besides the sound of wind rushing past the verdant leaves. He hadn't intended to make it fill the girl with more of a need to run away and escape, but that was very much the effect it had on her. She clutched onto him tightly, wondering what would happen if she said something he didn't like. He seemed more unstable than he normally would have been. And when he spoke next, it sent shivers down the girl's spine at the way he spat out the words, so greatly contrasting the sweet tone he used when talking to her.

"But that's why I can't forgive him. He doesn't deserve to touch you, much less have your love. In the end, he'll only throw you to the wolves, uncaring to what will become of you. I've seen it happen before and it will happen again. But I won't let it happen to you! So tell me, (Y/n), do you miss him?"

The younger girl was unable to respond, overcome with sheer terror at his bone-chilling tone. The sheer hatred he had in one moment and the soft question he'd posed to her were unnatural. They weren't normal, prompting her to freeze in fear. She didn't know how he would react to anything she said. She didn't even know if he would believe her if she spoke. It seemed a lose-lose battle either way.

This didn't set well with Yamato. He wouldn't accept her trying to shield anybody as she so often did. Her empathy for others was admirable, especially to him, but Sora didn't deserve her empathy. He didn't deserve anything having to do with her. Even being killed by her would have been too good for him. Yamato clenched his fists, growling and he bit down on his lip harshly, making it bleed and spill the crimson liquid trapped just beyond his flesh.

"Are you still thinking about that damned kiss he gave you?!" he howled, his embrace becoming tighter due to his possessiveness, "Sora gave you passion, is that it?"

Without warning, the brunette slammed the girl against the wall, trapping her inbetween it and his chest, blocking her escape. He was furious, his expression far past being calm, rife with hatred and disgust. Holding the girl's hands on either side of her head, he pressed his lips against hers, moving his leg inbetween hers to get more access to her. He was not going to let her go for quite some time.

His kiss was nothing like what he had given her before. It wasn't soft and sweet - making his and her cheeks flare in bashfulness - it was rough and demanding. Still, he made it somehow pleasurable, blending in both pain and pleasure into one passionate kiss filled with desire and jealousy, entangled in a dance of overbearing affection. This was Yamato's statement, his declaration of war over the girl's everything. Her heart, mind, soul, body, and whatever else he could get his hands on. Sora wouldn't have anything to do with it. If he had it his way, Sora wouldn't even be in her memories. He would gladly wipe away anything pertaining to him if he could.

When the brunette pulled away, he was panting, out of breath, and filled with the same passion he viewed the (h/c) haired girl to be enamored with. It wasn't like he was trained in the art of seducing and making women fall at his feet, but he knew how to express himself. Without words, it was harder, but he could do it nonetheless. He wouldn't let Sora make a fool of him. Just because he was inexperienced did not mean he was any less of a man, and he wouldn't let his love slip from him without a fight.

"Was that what made him so special?!" Yamato snapped although his anger was only directed at the thought of the ravenette, not (Y/n), herself, "I have plenty of passion for you, kitten, but I have self control unlike that dumbass! Don't let him into your mind. He'll only taint you. Stay with me, love me, and I'll give you more than he could ever hope to."

The brunette became gentle again, fading his anger into affection for the younger girl he was holding, embracing her protectively. He couldn't have been mad at her. It was his fault for not watching her closer and preventing Sora from taking her. However, he blamed the ravenette most of all. He was the one that seemed to turn her against him, taking her pure innocence and turning it into worthless want for a degenerate.

"I love you," he cried, pressing a soft and loving kiss to the girl's hand, holding it up to his cheek, leaning into her touch, "I don't want him to take you from me. And I certainly don't want him to hurt you! So please...just stay with me and forget about him. I'll treat you like a princess, I promise, I promise. D-Don't leave me again..."

Yamato's violent shaking continued, relying on the younger girl to comfort her. Surprisingly, all of her terror faded quite quickly, turning into guilt and worry for the male. He only wanted to help her and protect her against things that could hurt her. She couldn't just abandon him after that. So the (h/c) haired girl rested his head on her thighs, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she continued to hold her hand against her cheek for him to lean against. It seemed he had fallen asleep on her within moments, but his crying didn't cease for quite some time. He was truly terrified about the thought of her being away from him again.

. . .

It took maybe an hour or two before the brunette woke up, clinging to (Y/n)'s hand that was still placed on his cheek. As he opened his eyes, he flinched from the sun shining on him and turned away from it, finding a shadow was placed over him. It wasn't another person, the hand of the younger girl hovering over his eyes proving that. He was put at ease by the tender care he was being shown even after he'd scared her.

Grabbing the hand that was protecting his eyes from the sun, he held it close in his arms, pressing kiss after kiss on it to thank the girl for protecting him in her own little way. It was an invaluable gift she gave to him and he greatly treasured it, holding her arm close to himself, nuzzling it as he let out a sigh. He was in a completely different state than when he had fallen asleep, his tears having dried on his cheeks.

"Thank you so much," he whispered, sitting up and placing a kiss on the back of her hand with a bashful expression, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin today for us."

"Then help me make it better?" the girl smiled, tilting her head, prompting Yamato's heart to beat quickly at her kindness, "I'd like to hear more stories about your scars. I didn't get to learn a lot about your past."

"You want," the male paused, looking to the side in guilt, "to hear about me?"

The girl gave a pleading expression that answered his question, making him lean into her and bring her to the ground with him, snuggling her even though they were outside. She gave a giggle, leading him to place a kiss on her hand again as if asking for her to laugh again. He truly loved the sound of it, something he hadn't had the pleasure of hearing for quite some time, and he had caused it. It made his heart want to explode.

After hugging her to a large extent, the older male sat up and pulled down his kimono to just above his hips. Despite it being summer, he still liked to wear the warmer clothing instead of a yukata, but perhaps the heat didn't bother him. Still, in lowering the top of it, he exposed his skin, showing different marks engraved into his skin. Some were small cuts, others were deeper, insinuating there had been a large fight involved. So many stories of his past were written on his skin, but there was one that had stuck out, being the largest of his scars. It reached from his shoulder blade down to his hip, deep and worrying. However, when he turned around to show his chest, no other mark rivaled it.

"Go ahead and pick one and I'll tell you all about it. Assuming I remember, anyway," Yamato grinned, his cheeks red from showing himself "shirtless".

"How about these?" the girl asked, pointing to a few scratch-looking marks.

"Ah, that was a fight someone else picked with me," the male snickered, "When I was ten or so, this guy bumped into me when I was walking. I got so mad at him, I punched him in the gut and he got back at me with knives. It bled so much, but it didn't hurt. After that, he was laying on the ground crying."

"You can be scary sometimes, you know."

"Well, yeah, I've been told that pretty often. Sometimes I lose my temper, but I'd never hurt you, kitten. All I want to do is protect you," the brunette smiled, bringing the girl closer.

His heartfelt words made himself blush, but it didn't make it nearly as red as the way he felt the girl's hands on his bare skin. It wasn't something he could dismiss as normal, finding it to be incredibly mortifying. If anyone were to see him, they'd see him without his shirt and a younger girl so close to him. They might make a misunderstanding. He wouldn't be able to take it if rumors were spread, especially if they looked bad for the (h/c) haired girl.

"This doesn't bother you?" he stuttered, looking around for any sign of life, "What if someone saw us?"

"Your people love you too much to say anything bad about you," (Y/n) smiled, snuggling against the boy further, prompting him to give a small squeal, his face becoming even redder.

"J-Just finish up with your questions so I can redress myself," he requested.

"How about that large one on your back?"

The (h/c) haired girl traced her hand along the mark on the male's scar, sending shivers up his spine, prompting him to emit a small groan along with an embarrassed squeak. He covered his mouth and looked away. It was beginning to get uncommon for him to become that way, but he couldn't help it. She was teasing him even if she didn't know it, and he'd never had to train himself to resist (Y/n) in that way.

"Yamato?" the younger girl asked, her voice snapping the male out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, what did you want to know?" he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

"About the biggest scar on your back. It looks like it would have killed you."

The brunette stopped laughing entirely, turning away with a blank expression on his features. There was clearly a distaste at the memory even when he had been more excited about telling countless other stories. It couldn't have been that it was more painful. All of his scars would have been extremely painful, come about from fights and other brutal methods. Yet he held a bitter taste in his mouth at the mention of it.

"I got that for picking a fight with someone I couldn't beat," Yamato said, protectively tugging the younger girl in his arms, resting her head on his chest, "And even if you did beat him, he'd have his dumbass bodyguards hold you down while he seared hot blades into your back."

"Who was he?"

. . .

"Pops. Didn't think you'd ever call me," Sora scoffed, throwing his head back in his chair, "We havin' a family reunion or some shit?"

A deep voice came through the other end of the phone, a voice that was strong enough to intimidate the toughest of people and frighten anyone who were to hear it. It was booming, a voice that warned of the blood that had been spilled by his hand, breathy huffs coming from him as if to aliken him to a bull, ready to strike at any time, primed to kill. At the same time, the voice was dead, uncaring, and disembodied. The grating of nails on a chalkboard could have described his temper, fickle and unpleasant, resulting in wincing for fear of one's life. At the same time, it was also gravelly and sounded as if he was constantly speaking in an undertone. Simply put, it was bone-chilling.

"You always find ways to make me want to put a bullet in your head," the man spoke.

"I love you too, you old bastard," the ravenette spoke sarcastically, giving a chuckle at the thought of actually having affection for his father, "Now what the fuck do you want?"

"Manners."

"Sorry, what the fuck do you want, you bitching son of a fucking dick, please?" the ravenette said, knowing what he said sure to tick off his father for numerous reasons.

"I see you've inherited your mother's intellect. Would you also like to inherit her disappearance? I could arrange it."

"You arranged hers, too," Sora muttered.

"I don't care for your backtalk. Just answer me when I talk to you, boy. I wanted to check up on the happenings of the slave trade. The contract has been signed, I understand, but how is the collection going?"

Sora gave a great sigh at the way his faher spoke. He never seemed to care about the male or anything that he accomplished. It was all about spreading his empire and reputation, especially his wealth. With wealth, he could buy women, and with women, he could ignore his so-called wife. All in all, the cards were stacked against a balanced and happy family in the first place, but the ravenette didn't seem to view having a family the same way as his father did. Instead of an apple that fell far from the tree, the difference between the two was so severe that Sora could be compared to that of a grapefruit, fitting his bitter view on his so-called parental figure.

The ravenette stood up from where he was seated, storming out of his office and heading into his room while his father rambled on about the questions he had for him. Of course, nothing was about him, in particular. The ravenette was only something to carry on his name after he died, not that he was a planned heir, anyway. His very existence was an accident, and still, his father hammered down on him to sing praises of his name while he was gone, and while he was living.

Sora was just a pawn to make it to the other side of the board to replace the queen that had been felled. It wasn't even from the enemy, of which they had many, it was their queen that decided to off herself, leaving from their life without taking her beloved son with her. No trace of her remained, something the ravenette blamed solely on his father, knowing he didn't take well to his mother after he was born. "Entitled", he called her when she wanted to name him. He would have gladly done away with her when he had the chance, something Sora would have staked his life upon.

The only good thing his father had done for his mother was letting her name him even after he scolded her for wanting to name him. Of course, he wouldn't have put in the effort to name his son, leaving it to her to deal with, making sure she was grateful for it. But the ravenette had a soft spot for his name, holding it near and dear to his heart. Sora, she called him. The sky, some would say. He'd always thought she named him that because she wanted him to be the bird that soared in the sky rather than the one she was, trapped in a rusted cage. He loved his name, he loved his mother, but his father was another story altogether.

"And as for the transportation, I wanted to make sure everything was proceeding as was agreed upon," his father paused, waiting for a response from the ravenette.

"Yes, let's talk about that, old man. Then let's talk about how I'm waitin' for you to die so I can finally do whatever the hell I want to do!" the ravenette growled, "It's never about me, is it? Just about you and your sick need for power and money! How's that goin' for you, bastard?!"

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the phone as Sora proceeded to smash and break anything near him, making sure his father heard it. Indeed, he did, hearing every possession the ravenette proceeded to break into pieces. Though he didn't scold the boy for doing such a thing, after the younger male stopped and began panting to regain his breath, the man took in a deep breath before letting out an eerie whispering exhale. It was like dust pushed forward with wind, a strangely barren sound.

"You want to talk about you?" his father asked, strangely calmly, "Fine, let's talk about you. What's all this talk about you having some sort of pet? Some girl you're keeping around to occupy yourself?"

"Like you'd give a fuck about that," Sora scoffed, slamming himself down in a chair and placing his feet on a table, leaning back so only two of the chair's legs were on the ground, "You're constantly surrounded by your damn whores. What's it to you if I follow after your gleamin' example?"

"Please, there's been talk, as there typically is. Seems people can't keep their lips from running about you. I wonder why." A pause, "This girl isn't one of your regular women. I've heard some unsavory things about your relationship with her."

"Who are you talkin' about, old man?" the ravenette sighed, rolling his eyes.

"How should I care for her name? The point is you're keeping someone around that you're not fucking." A whistle came from Sora, showing how "impressed" he was that his father cursed, "I find it more than a bit odd that at the same time as your arrival, your work has been slowing. Tell me how that could possibly happen."

"Ah, yes, my girly," Sora chuckled to himself, watching his face turn pink as he stared into the mirror ahead of him, smirking afterward, "A nice distraction. An old pervert like you'd be lucky to get a glimpse of her. Sucks, old man. She's radiant. A lot better than your ass. Bet all your whores and slaves would agree if they didn't fear your 'retribution'."

"I don't need you to be distracted!" his father's voice boomed, showing a spark of anger for his clearly uninterested son, "Do you understand how important a time this is?! Expanding into another country, the wealthiest country, could make us more powerful than the Hisaki Syndicate!"

"Oh, that's priceless," Sora snickered then burst out into laughter, wiping a fake tear from his eye, "You're still hung up on the fact that Kage's mother didn't choose you?! Aw, that's cute you thought you could stand a chance. What a scandal! Think of the overly complicated headline! Perfectly composed and renowned leader Tsunade Hisaki of the biggest yakuza group in Athain turned down Michi Gensai's proposal to join groups in favor of respectable businessman Koji Fukushima! That's a mouthful. But it wasn't like you did it for love...was it?"

"Enough!" his father demanded, audibly slamming his large hands on his desk in anger, "Hear me now, boy! I'm not one to be trifled with! Seeming as you've taken to a disobedience, I'll teach you how to obey again. I'll find that girl of yours and, right in front of you, I'll take the chastity you've been trying so hard to stash off."

"Easy there, old man," Sora chuckled darkly, though his feelings on the matter were anything but laughable.

"You've been warned," his father said quietly, his anger retreating once again, "I expect a proper report by Tuesday."

The line ended there, the call cutting off and leaving the ravenette to throw the phone through the glass of the balcony, sending shards to land on the ground. His father had made a threat that he wouldn't take, something that sent his mind running on how to plan his murder. It wouldn't be simple, certainly not, nor would it be viewed as a heinous act. Sora knew countless numbers of people who would gladly help him, a Murder on the Orient Express, Cesaer type of deal. It seemed like all Sora had on his mind was revenge, retribution, and ridicule to his enemies or those that sought to cross him.

Still, as he let his anger fester inside of him, he slammed his hand on the table, only for something to catch his eye. Turning his head, there was a letter placed there, held down by a carving. It was a carving that he distinctly remembered he hadn't put there, its proper place in a room all to itself and the memories associated with it. How it got there, he had no idea, especially since it wasn't there when he sat down there.

As he grabbed the letter, he noticed it being addressed to "big brother", written in crayon. His eyes began to scan the contents of the letter, becoming more focused with every word, his hands clenching on the paper, his tears soaking into it as he read. It seemed like some sort of sick joke to him, but he refused to believe it was one, begging and pleading that it was from the little ray of sunshine he sought to avenge.

"Your wish is granted," a blue-haired male said, turning to the younger girl behind him who had a beaming expression, grateful to see the ravenette's love for her one last time, "Now for your part of the deal, little one."