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written-in-flowers · 2 years ago

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Kimura Delivery Service: Prologue

Pairing: OC x S.W.O.R.D leaders (yes, you read that right)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst,

Word Count: 7k

Fandom: High & Low: The Story of S.W.O.R.D

Summary: After a life of swinging her fists, Sakyia is hopeful about her easy going job of delivering packages...However, her aunt neglected to mention the "regulars": The gang leaders of S.W.O.R.D. and the undeniable affection they all grow to have for her.

Overall Warnings: blood and violence, fighting, gang activity, crime, mentions of death, multiple relationships, girlboss being a girlboss, not really 'poly' but girl has a string of lovers,

Part 1 >

***

Sixteen, she surmised. Lean, limber, and tall, he did not look his age at all, which is why they let him enter the ring. Not that the managers cared about the age. They’d turned a blind eye to thirteen-year-old Sakyia back then too. She saw the determined look on his face when he stepped into the pit, a circular spot bordered by short wooden planks. She heard his manager’s shouts from his side as she wrapped her knuckles with bandages, telling him that she’s only a girl and he’d look weak losing to a girl. These words seemed to fuel Yoshi’s eagerness to win. It was either that or his manager’s severe debts. They’d fueled her too until she actually saw Yoshi in the light. He did not have the aged looks other fighters had; he was fresh and young. A child.

“Jiro!” the young woman turned to the large man standing off to the side. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and she could see the heat of the warehouse beading sweat on his forehead. “Jiro,” she moved close to him, “I’m not fighting.”

“The hell you mean you’re not fighting?” he asked with angry eyes. “A lot of things depend on this fight. What are you talking about?”

“He’s a kid, Jiro!” she retorted, calling over the loud crowd around the ring. “Look at him! Just look at him!”

“I am looking,” he said, “And that looks like someone who wants to be here. If he gets fucked up, it’s his own fault!”

Sakiya knew that was not true. She looked back at Yoshi, who was talking to an older gentleman on the other side. The man poured reassurances that made the boy nod his head. He did not appear as confident as before. She could tell the man was psyching Yoshi up, trying to get him in the mood to fight someone. He did not pick this fight; he did not want to be here. Nobody ever wants to be in the fighting pits. The underground fighting rings in the warehouse district were not the typical boxing matches. They did not end after a few rounds. They ended when someone passed out, yielded, or died. She gazed around the large empty warehouse. They’d blocked off the ring with wooden barriers, and spread sawdust and dirt on the floor for an easier clean up. She saw dozens of faces standing around, already cheering and holding their betting tickets. She knew a lot of people counted on her to win, but winning did not always end pretty.

“I don’t know about this,” she told her stepfather. “You know how these-”

“-Get in the damn ring, girl!” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her close. The stench of sweat and cigars made her nose wrinkle, and his hot breath suffocated her. “You want those men to come back? Because, if I don’t pay them tonight, they’ll come back and they won’t be so lenient like they were today. Do you want to see your mom in the hospital? Hm?”

Sakyia glared at him, and twisted out of his grip. Her forceful push shocked him for a second, but then he smirked. It was a dirty trick. She thought back to the men who’d accosted her mother earlier that day. They’d come seeking out Jiro, but found her instead. Sakyia saw her by their front door, holding her groceries as three men circled her. Thankfully, Sakyia appeared before they could truly hurt the small woman. They told her that if Jiro did not have their money by tonight, they’d come back with more men. She did not know who Jiro owed money to now, but they were not above hurting families. Winning this match would keep her mother safe. So, she turned back to the center where Yoshi met her.

“What are you doing here, kid?” she asked him as the referee approached the ring. “Really? This place isn’t for children.”

“I’m not a kid. I’m eighteen,” he defended.

“Sure, you are,” she scoffed. “You should forfeit while you can,” she fixed the bandages on her hands and knuckles, “So you don’t get hurt.”

“I doubt you can take me on. You should be the one forfeiting the fight before you break a nail.”

“Break a nail? Is that the best you can do?” she snorted out a laugh. “If I break a nail it’s because I smashed it into your pretty face, little boy.”

The referee stepped over the wooden fence and came between them. He mentioned something about a ‘clean fight’ which amused Sakyia. Nothing about the pits was clean. It took a ring of a bell to set everything off. Her body immediately tensed and she raised both her fists up. She took a deep breath as she moved her body to a fighting position. She could do this; she’d done it dozens of times before now. The fact that her opponent was a boy changed nothing; there’s too much at risk to forgive that.

Sakyia made the first swing. Her punch was as fast as a snake. Yoshi surprised her by blocking and punching back, barely missing her head. Another punch. She grunted as he grabbed her arm, twisting it and forcing her to kick him until she came free.

Damn, he was better than she’d expected.

“Not bad, kid!” she exclaimed as she kicked his stomach, throwing him back against the fence. The spectators roughly pushed him back into the ring, and she sighed. “But not good enough.”

He played defense, most likely hoping she’d tire herself out if he hung back. Her father taught her all the signs. Her real father, not Jiro. They don’t really hit back; they'll mostly block or dodge the hits. He told her to do the same when this happened. Either they end up dancing in circles, or her opponent is forced to start fighting. When Sakyia stepped back, it forced Yoshi to move into the center, and that was when she attacked. In a series of fast, hard blows she knocked Yoshi to the ground. But, he tripped her by the ankle and she slammed down onto the floor beside him. She groaned at the impact, and this put her guard down a moment. She imagined her father being there where Jiro stood. He’d be cheering her on. He’d be throwing encouragement and pointers. Then again, her father would’ve never brought her here. They would be at home with their punching bag or eating dinner with her mother.

“Stop playing around and finish him already, Sakyia!”

She should’ve stayed down. She should’ve faked an injury. Sakyia was more than aware how these fights ended. But, she recalled the men at their door and her fearful mother. If she yielded, she lost her earnings. So, she stood on her feet again. Her eyes glanced over to where Jiro stood talking with a man in a black suit. She hated him. She hated him from the moment she met him. She wished they’d just kill Jiro and leave her mother alone. It was because of him that she’d entered the warehouse at all.

She’d been a skinny twelve-year-old when Jiro came into their lives. He’d claimed to own a famous car dealership, a nice house and even a boat. He’d managed to pull it off while her mother and him dated, but once they married, she found out the truth. Jiro gambled most of his money away. He went bankrupt and sold his car dealership. He sold his boat to pay off some loan sharks, and he lost his house to the bank. He promised her mother he’d stop his gambling ways, but never did.

It did not help that his self-loathing projected onto her mother, a thin woman who never hurt a fly. Sakyia tried protecting her, but she’d been too small to fight him. Jiro eventually realized her skills when he caught her fighting a pair of boys who’d followed her home. Rather than sell her like most scoundrels do for money, he pushed her into a fighting pit. Thirteen-years-old by this time, he told the men who ran the fights that she was “old enough”. She doubted the men believed him, but still accepted her. Sakyia, despite hating the fights, was rather good. Her mother never approved of the fighting. Even if he gave her black eyes or swollen cheeks, she still protested against it. Not that Jiro listened. Sakyia soon gained a reputation for her hard, quick fists, earning the nickname ‘Viper’.

A stupid name that she hated.

She blocked Yoshi’s blows, despite the impact making her muscles and bones burn. Their arms locked together, and each of them began punching the other’s side. She made sure each hit counted. All she needed to do was get him to yield the fight. If he yielded, he’d leave intact. They broke apart, and Yoshi kicked her back. The blow took air from her chest, but she recovered quickly enough to grab his ankle in the second kick. She managed to turn it so he fell.

She saw the fight starting to wear Yoshi down. Her father always told her fighting was hard on novices, who used all their energy too quickly. She saw him using the fence to get onto his feet again, and struggling to breathe properly. He was only a child. This was not the place for him.

“Yield,” she said over the crowd, “Yield and go outside.”

“No,” he shook his head. She spotted a glimmer of fear in his eyes when they met, desperation mingling with it. “I can’t.”

He moved once more. He charged forward and punched her face again. Up against the fence, he started pounding on her torso and sides through her shield. She waited him out before pushing him away with an elbow to the face, then a backhand afterwards. It was a clear kick to the chest that landed Yoshi into the dirt. She heard his choked gasp and cough when he hit the floor. Sakyia saw him clawing the dirt and sawdust under his fingernails, rolling to his side and coughing. She’d turned to Jiro.

“Finish him!” he called out to her, gesturing to the boy on the floor.

“He’s down! It’s over!” she called back, shocked by what was happening.

“I said ‘finish him’! Do you want them to come back?!”

Sakyia turned back to Yoshi, who still struggled for air. She watched his chest heave up and down as it tightened. In her heart, she knew how wrong it was. Looking up, she spotted the three men from earlier in the day. They wore fancy suits with small golden pins on their lapels. They watched her with expectant gazes. She knew then why she was being pushed to murder this boy.

Jiro promised them she would do it.

“Finish him, Viper! Finish him!” Jiro shouted angrily, hitting the fence with his fists.

She ignored him. She saw the men watching her still. The tallest one, dark with his hair slicked back from his face, opened his jacket to reveal a gun. He kept his eyes on her and she did not look away. She knew what he said without hearing the words: ‘Finish the damn fight’.

Sakiya stared right at the stranger, then back to Yoshi. She saw the boy clutch at his chest, gasping deeply and coughing up the dust around him. She looked up to the stranger again. She cannot let this boy die. Whatever slight him or his family caused was not her responsibility to handle. She ignored Jiro’s protests and the jeering crowd around her. “I yield,” she said to the referee, “Go get the doctor.”

“What?! Are you insane?!” she heard Jiro call from behind her.

“Are you sure?” the referee asked.

“I’m sure.”

She saw the disapproving looks the suits gave her, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t a killer. They could get their money another way. Sakiya walked over to Yoshi, who struggled to breathe. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said gently, bending down to him and helping him sit up, “Just relax.”

“Yoshi!” the old man hurriedly approached them, holding up an inhaler. “Here,” he bent down and pressed the inhaler to Yoshi’s mouth with a wrinkled hand, “Breathe.”

Sakiya held Yoshi’s head as his grandfather pumped air through the small container. A rough hand then yanked her to her feet and spun her around. Jiro’s beady eyes glared into hers, and she didn’t move away. “Do you realize what you’ve done?! What’s the matter with you?”

“I wasn’t going to let him die,” she spat back. “If you want to settle your debts this way, then you do it,” she shoved him with a hand, putting her bloody bandages on his chest. “I’m done.”

“Done? What do you mean you’re ‘done’? You got two more rounds to go! We have to pay back those guys or they’ll get your-”

“-It’s your problem now,” she shot back over her shoulder before storming off.

‘The next round’. He truly expected her to continue fighting after Yoshi. Sakyia clenched her fists holding back her anger. Hot tears brimmed her eyes, but she did not dare cry in front of Jiro.

She walked away from the ring to an employee locker room. There was nobody there but her. She saw the medical kit on the bench, but did not take anything from it. Despite the burning pain on her nose, the caked blood on her upper lip, she couldn’t be bothered at the moment. In the fluorescent lighting of the room, she finally saw her hands. Her wrappings left indents on her skin in places, and she saw Yoshi’s blood staining her fingers. She unwrapped them as she walked over to a sink to quickly wash it off. She could still hear Yoshi’s shallow gasps as he inhaled more dust and sand. She spotted the bruises on her knuckles, and knew they’d hurt in the morning. She pitied him, and hoped the inhaler saved him. Sakiya was a lot of things, but she was not a killer. She wasn’t going to become somebody’s weapon. She splashed cool water on her hot face, putting some on the back of her neck and letting it fall into her scalp. The soothing water cooled down her hot cheeks. She needed a moment to think. She needed a plan to get out.

“You said you’d have the money by tonight, Jiro,” she heard a man’s voice echo somewhere nearby. Standing upright, she turned off the sink to listen.

“I-I-I will,” Jiro said in a shaky voice. “The girl is just freaked out. You know women; they’re so sensitive when it comes to these things. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be back out there. You’ll have your money, Nikadio. I promise.”

“You better, if you know what is good for you.”

The voices outside brought her back and she knew what to do. She grabbed her backpack and dark green jacket from a nearby locker, made sure she had everything, and stood up to leave. She needed to go home. Her mother was there waiting for her. If she hurried, they could run away. She did know where they’d go, but they had to get away. If they stayed with Jiro any longer, they’d both end up dead. When Sakyia left the locker room, she made to move towards the exit doors before a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Where are you going?” Jiro gripped her arm hard, “You still have two more fights. We’re not done tonight. Those men are dangerous people. If they don’t get their money, they’ll come back to the house and hurt your mother.”

“Stop acting like you care about her so much! We both know you don’t,” she shot back, twisting herself out of his grasp and staring him down. “I’m done being your race horse. I’m not going to kill a kid because you promised a bunch of gangsters that you’d do it for them. Settle your debts on your own or get out of town before they toss you into the river.”

“You little, ungrateful bitch! After all I’ve done for you! This is how you repay me?!” She heard him storm after her, and reach for her again.

Sakyia balled up her fist tightly and punched his lower jaw. With a small jolt, Jiro dropped to the ground on his side. She was about to turn away before she spotted the rolled up bills hanging from his pocket. She did not waste any more time. She rifled through his pocket, took the money and his car keys and rushed down the hallway through the exit. She needed to get home.

****

“Ma, Ma! Ma, Pick up!”

Sakyia tapped her mother’s number on her phone once more. Her heart raced thinking of what she might find when she came home. Jiro might be an idiot, but he was right. If the gangsters see that they’re not getting their money tonight, they’ll send a message. What if the man in the suit called his friends to go over to her house? What if they’d taken her mother somewhere? Racing down the street, she nearly screamed from the adrenaline in her body. She had trouble keeping her eyes on the road while dialing and redialing her mother’s number. Every time she heard the ringtone over the speaker, a message came out:

“Hello! This is Tanaka Midori. I am not available right now, but if you leave your name and number, I will call you back-”

“-Why did you get a phone if you won’t answer it when I call you?!” she grunted and tossed her phone into the passenger’s seat.

She kept her eyes peeled on the road for any suspicious cars. Not that she’d be able to tell in the first place. Ending up on her street, she spotted a black car parked outside her house. A thousand horrible scenarios played through her mind as she stepped on the breaks outside. They’d already come. She was too late. She slammed her hands on the wheel angrily, her heart thumping hard in her chest. Quickly, she rushed out of the car, up the steps to their door, and fumbled the keys. She heard people talking on the other side, and she gulped thickly. Her entire body tensed in preparation for a fight. She tried steadying her breathing, but there didn’t seem to be a point anymore.

“Ma! Ma, I’m here!” she called out frantically into the hallway.

But, it was not screams she heard. Nobody had ransacked the house or left any sort of damage behind. She heard people in the living room chatting jovially and laughing. Confusion set in when she walked into the living room to see three people there. Her mother, Midori, sat wearing her silk dressing gown over pink pajamas; her black hair in curlers underneath a matching hair bonnet. On their loveseat sat two men: one older and one younger. The older gentleman wore a tweed gray suit and a gold watch; the younger had black hair cropped over his eyes and wore a dark navy jacket and pants. The elder was talking to her mother, who laughed at something he said. She’d set out her nicest tea set, and a small plate of treats.

Something she only brought out for “important” guests.

“Ma?”

The three people looked over to her. “Ah, there she is! You’re home early. I thought you’d be out much later,” her mother beamed, standing up to greet her. “Oh gosh, look at your face! And your nose!” she gasped and began examining her daughter’s face, “It was already kinda crooked. I hope this doesn’t make it worse. Where’s Jiro?”

“Ma, what’s happening?”

“Good things now,” her mother assured her. “These two gentlemen,” she gestured to the men on the sofa, “Came to see Jiro about the money he owes them.”

“But...What about…” the scene all together made her head hurt. She stared around at them in confusion, trying to make sense of everything. “Those men from today…”

“Don’t worry about them,” said the older gentleman, “Those were some punks we sent to intimidate Jiro. I told your mother we had no idea they would treat her like they did. We’re sorry if they gave you any cause to worry about your mother’s safety or wellbeing.”

She thought she might faint. When she swayed, her mother helped her into a chair. “I’ll go get the kit from upstairs,” her mother said, “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Who...Who are you two?” Sakiya’s questions came out in rapid fire. “Why are you in my house? Why are you here and not at the warehouse where Jiro is?”

“I am Kawata,” the elder man said, shaking hands with her and then sipping from his teacup. “I am a representative of the Ieruma-Kai group. This is Noboru, who is also part of our organization.” He put his cup down and said, “Your stepfather owes our clan a great sum of money. Your fighting tonight was supposed to cover a small part of it-”

“-Did that part involve murdering Yoshi?”

“You killed him?” Noboru looked at her with wide eyes, “You actually killed him?”

It hurt hearing someone say it that way. “I...I didn’t…” the tears suddenly returned, but she fought them away, “I yielded to the fight before anything serious could happen to him. He...He was coughing a lot. He had trouble breathing. I-I-I told him to go outside and get some air. He shouldn’t have been in that place like that. He’s only a kid.”

“Yes, his father mentioned he had asthma,” nodded Kawata. “All the sawdust and dirt must’ve not been easy on his lungs.”

“Why was he there?” Sakyia glared at them.

“Probably to pay off his father’s debts like you,” the man replied. “You know just as well as us how dangerous the fighting pits can be if you’re not careful.”

“He’s a kid. He couldn’t be older than fifteen or sixteen,” she replied.

“The father was too old to fight, and the boy seemed eager to prove himself,” Kawata reasoned. “From what Jiro tells us, you’d been younger than him when you were thrown into the ring.”

“Really?” Noboru asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh yes,” Kawata answered, “Sakyia here was-what?-thirteen? Fourteen-years-old?"

"Thirteen, sir."

Sakyia preferred not to think of those days. Like Yoshi, she'd gone into the ring scared and confused. Luckily, some of the older fighters took pity on her. They did not hit as hard, and some gave her tips or tricks she could use. Her father began her training, but when a car accident took his life, those people became her teachers. Jiro saw the potential in her, he claims, and exploited it for his own benefit. Sakyia could not count the number of times she'd fought to earn him money. Not for the family, but for him.

“Since you were thirteen?” Noboru asked. She recognized the pity in his voice, and did not need it. “But…you must’ve been so much smaller than your opponents.”

“Do not be fooled by her size,” Kawata said. “I’ve seen you fight, young lady. My boss calls you ‘the Little Viper’ with those fast jabs of yours.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard the name thrown around. Jiro said all the great fighters have nicknames,” she rolled her eyes and wiped the side of her mouth with her sleeve. It’d stopped bleeding thankfully. “I always thought it was a silly name.”

“A silly name that gained you a lot of recognition in those warehouses.”

“Oh, I hate that place,” Midori reappeared with the medical kit. She set it on the coffee table, and grabbed disinfectant, “You always come home with these nasty bruises and you’re limping all over the place. It’s not right. I told Jiro over and over that if he wanted to pay off his debts, he should settle it on his own.” Sakyia winced when the small wet cloth touched her cut nose, but her mother kept her still. “I didn’t care if he hit me or not. I didn’t want him throwing you into the fire.”

“And we completely understand,” Kawata said to her. “Sakyia is a very pretty, charming, young woman. She should be out with her friends and going to college.”

“Exactly my point!” Midori agreed. She wiped the dried blood from Sakyia’s face, then continued, “I worried it’d end like this. I worried one day he’d drive you to do something reckless or dangerous that would get someone killed.”

“There was a man there,” Sakyia said to Kawata. “He was wearing a black suit. He had short black hair slicked back from his face. I overheard him talking to Jiro about the fight.”

Kawata thought, then said, “Ah yes, that must’ve been Nikaido. He works with us too. He was there to collect your earnings tonight.” He paused, “Did you run into him?”

“No, I saw him, but we never spoke. So, you’re telling me you didn’t mean for Yoshi to die? That it wasn’t some elaborate way of sending a message or something?”

They both chuckled softly, then Kawata said, “Of course not. If we want to kill someone, we do it ourselves. Whatever happens to Yoshi after tonight is a result of the fighting ring, not us.”

She looked up at her mother. Her headache from all the confusion pulsed in her temples, and she didn’t know what to say. “I...Mama...I’m…”

“I think it’s about time you gentlemen were off,” Midori said to the two men. “My daughter needs rest and I believe our formal business is done.”

Kawata bowed his head, “Yes, ma’am.”

They stood up together and they each thanked her for her hospitality. Kawata told her someone from Ieruma would stop by the salon to check it out, and she led them out. Once they were gone, she returned to Sakyia on the chair. Looking up at her mother, who smiled warmly at her, she sobbed. The tears she’d tried withholding came forth in hard trembles. She leaned forward, her head in her hands as she cried. Her mother gave her a tender pat on the back and stroked her head.

“It’s alright, Blossom,” she said softly, sitting her up and stroking her hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing has happened; I’m sure the boy will be alright.”

“I couldn’t do it, Mama. I couldn’t finish the fight,” she took a deep breath, “I thought something awful was going to happen to you.” She blinked the tears from her eyes, until she wiped them with her sleeves. “The Ieruma men weren’t going to get their money, so I thought they’d come and hurt you. Jiro’s problems have always become our problems, and I’m sick of it. I didn’t care when it was him and me, but the fact that you were going to be dragged into it…”

She sighed sadly, and continued cleaning up Sakyia’s wounds. Smoothing over the cut on her nose, she said, “I hate that it’s become like this. The child protects the parent when it should be the other way around.” She must’ve decided stitches weren’t needed, and began disinfecting the wounds to bandage them, “Jiro is too cowardly to face his own troubles,” she said, “So he threw you in front of them. I should have left him. I should have not let him do what he did, but I...I was weak, Sakyia. I’d just lost your father and we didn’t have the salon yet. We would’ve been homeless if Jiro had not come along. I’d hoped he’d be a proper father figure to you, but I was wrong.” She placed the last plaster on the bridge of her nose and said, “It’s my fault you were there in the first place. I should have fought him harder; I shouldn’t have been so weak. I’m so sorry, Blossom. I’m sorry that I am not your-”

“-Mama,” she took her mother’s shaking hands and squeezed them gently, “Jiro would have done it whether you fought back or not. I don’t...I don’t blame you,” she sniffed back her tears. “I’m so confused,” she admitted, “Everything is happening so fast and I can’t-c-can’t keep up with it.”

“Then don’t say anything else,” she comforted, “You can just listen.” When Sakyia rested her head on her mother’s lap on the couch, Midori began: “When those three punks came up to me today, I knew Jiro was in a bad situation with bad people. I wasn’t surprised, to be honest, since Jiro only ever dealt with shady types. Yet, I noticed one of them was wearing this little golden pin on his jacket. It had a triangle with dragons around it, and I recognized the symbol. The young man who brings Yori- you remember Mrs. Ieurma, right? She’s the lady who used to give you candy when you were little?”

“I remember her.”

“Well, her chauffeur also has that little pin. When I saw her at the salon today, I told her what happened and she was shocked! She said she couldn’t believe her husband would send men to harass a lady, especially a dear friend of hers. If my husband owed money, she said, they should be harassing him. She told me she’d be speaking with him personally about it.”

“That was nice of her to do,” Sakyia said.

“Oh, Yori’s one of my oldest clients. I adore her!” she caught herself before a tangent, and said, “Anyways, she got me in touch with her husband and we talked about it at the salon.”

“You spoke to Tatsumi in person? Isn’t he, like, the boss?”

“Over the phone, yes,” she said, “He explained the entire situation to me. He said it was all business and he didn’t mean to involve us, but that Jiro did owe them a considerable amount.”

“He must know how fond Yori is of you,” Sakyia added, “To change his character so easily.”

“To be honest, it was probably because he knows Jiro wouldn’t care if either of us died,” she shrugged. “I hate to say it so harshly, but family is only a good leverage if the person you're threatening actually cares about them.”

She supposed that made sense. Her mother continued her story, “As I was saying, I spoke with Tatsumi and asked how much Jiro owed him. When I realized how much it was, I knew your earnings alone wouldn’t cover the amount. That’s why Kawata and Noboru came to visit. They came to discuss payment. I give them ownership of the salon; they cut Jiro’s debts in half and only deal with him from now on.”

“Ownership of the salon?!” Sakyia bolted upwards in her seat and looked at her mother in disbelief, “You sold the salon? Ma, that salon is your entire life! You spent years working towards it! It means everything to you, it’s your work! Your life! You can’t just-”

“-I can and I did,” she hushed her daughter gently. “The salon might have been my work, but it was not my life and does not mean everything to me.” She cupped Sakyia’s swollen cheek and looked her in the eyes, “You are, Blossom. If selling the salon meant you did not have to fight anymore, then it was worth it to me. I can rebuild a salon, but I can’t rebuild a daughter.” She gently kissed Sakyia’s forehead and hugged her close. “Tatsumi agreed to the deal and Kawata came to finalize the papers.”

“What are you going to do for work, Ma?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We can’t afford to stay here, so we’ll have to move somewhere else. But, we’ll talk about that tomorrow.” She gazed over her daughter’s face, taking in each feature and comparing them to her father. Sakyia looked like him in certain lights. “This can be a new start for the both of us; you and me,” her eyes glazed over with tears, “The way it should have been the whole time.”

“Ah, Ma…”

Midori kissed her head again, then made her eat. Sakyia didn't realize how much everything hurt until she relaxed. She swore she felt her entire body throbbing all at once everywhere. She winced when she finally stood up, feeling the fight in her muscles. She made her way upstairs, where her mother prepared a hot bath, and she sunk into it slowly. As the soothing water worked on her sore muscles, she knew one thing for certain: her mother would be safe now. Midori wouldn’t have to worry about Sakyia being injured or Jiro’s furious hits. She could focus on more important things. Sakyia considered what she might do now that she had no warehouse fights. Thinking of the future felt better than remembering the boy she’d fought tonight. Her mother would tell her to go to university, but she felt too old for that now.

Maybe she’ll know when she finally gets to wherever they’re going.

****

Their landlord gave them a month to leave the house. Midori told her that Sakyia’s aunt, Hana, had an extra room above her shop where they could stay until they got back on their feet. Sakyia remembered her aunt, a round-faced woman with coarse black hair, and felt thankful to be moving in with someone familiar. Hana joked that now they’d have someone to protect them if a robber came into the apartment.

However, remembering the shabby apartment, she doubted there’d be any burglars to worry about. Her aunt lived in a town called Sannoh which was outside their district. Her mother had grown up here, she knew. It was a small place with local businesses and friendly neighbors. As they drove through, she saw the kids playing in the street, the vendors haggling with customers at their shops, and people walking or bike riding. It seemed like such a simple place. It looked quiet and peaceful.

“Is there no post office?” Sakyia asked as they drove down the street. “I’m sure people can mail things to each other.”

“It’s an inner-district delivery service,” her mother answered. “Sometimes people need things delivered quickly and the post office doesn’t always work that way.”

“Like what?”

She hesitated, as they turned a corner, “Just things, Blossom. Nothing you need to worry about. You’ll be helping me in the salon, remember?”

“What salon?”

“Hana says our friend Sungmi is going back to Korea,” she said, “And is selling her salon.”

“Ma, you don’t have money to buy a salon. We don’t even have our own place to live yet.”

“Hey, who is the parent here, huh?” Midori laughed. “You worry about things too much, Sakyia. I’ve known Sungmi since we were in beauty school, and she said she’ll keep ownership until I’m able to pay to buy her out.” She squeezed Sakyia’s leg, “Don’t you worry, little blossom. Mama’s got this all taken care of. You and I are gonna get through this together, okay?”

Sakyia smiled. She’d spent most of her time relaxing her worn out body. It felt weird not doing anything besides training in their garage. Looking at the sketch book in her lap, she’d gone back to art like she’d done as a kid. On the page, she’d drawn a stocky man punching a large punching bag. He had a straight jawline like hers; his broad build was all muscle. She added a few strays in his black hair, and added shade to his wrapped hands. Her mind often drifted to her father in times like these, when the world felt so uncertain. She traced out the shadows of his crooked nose, which had been narrow before being broken in several fights. He’d been the strong one out of the three of them.

Then the accident happened. The weight then fell on her shoulders, because Jiro weakened her mother so significantly.

“We’re here now.”

She looked out the window to see a small storefront on the side of the road. On a faded sign above the windows, someone painted the words: “Kimura Delivery Service: Stamped, Sealed, Delivered.”

“Stamped?”

Midori chuckled, “That was from when it first opened. Your grandfather used to have this little stamp to verify packages. Now, your aunt prints a label. But, the sign meant a lot to your grandfather, so she promised she’d never change it.” Then she added, “Also, new signs cost a fortune.”

Sakyia was sure the business did not have money for anything new. Through the wide windows, she saw her aunt already standing at a counter beside a register. A young man in a red jacket stood scribbling down on a piece of paper in front of her, both chatting. She also noticed the ‘Help Wanted” sign in the corner of the window. How much business could this place be getting that she needed more help? Sakyia and her mother then stepped out of the car. Their appearance made Hana look out the window, and she smiled widely and waved. The young man noticed her waving and turned around. He was short, maybe two or three inches taller than her, with blond hair he kept parted to the side. He looked at Sakyia curiously, most likely trying to remember if he recognized her. Sakyia knew she’d never seen him before.

“Midori!” Hana cheered as they walked into the store. She moved around the counter and the sisters hugged tightly. “I thought you’d be coming in the afternoon! I would’ve closed up the office early!”

“Sakyia stayed up to pack the rest of our things,” she told her as they released each other. “And the movers put our furniture into storage yesterday.”

“We didn’t have much to begin with,” said Sakyia, shouldering her backpack. “Hello, Auntie.”

“Ah! There she is!” Hana embraced her, “My favorite niece! Oh, look how big you’ve gotten!” She moved away to take a look at Sakyia, “Good lord, girl, you’re so skinny. What has your mother been feeding you? Grass?”

Sakyia did not have the heart to tell her about the strict diet Jiro kept her on before his ‘disappearance’. She’d thought she might gain some from stuffing her face the past few weeks, but nothing goes past her Auntie Hana. She noticed the man behind them leaning against the counter, looking at them with interest. Sakyia could not get a read on him, and that bothered her.

“I tell her all that training burns off anything she eats,” her mother lied immediately, “But now that you’re here, I’m sure she’s going to be eating tons.”

“Of course!” Hana exclaimed, “A few days here, and you’ll be all rounded out.”

The young man coughed into his fist for her attention, and Hana whipped around. “Oh gosh, Junpei,” she said, coming back to the counter, “Forgive me. You finished the label?”

“It’s alright, Ms. Kimura,” he replied, “I already sealed it there for you.”

“Excellent,” she said, smoothing out the printed label he’d signed. “Ah, Junpei, this is my sister, Midori, and her daughter, Sakyia. They’re moving into the apartment upstairs. Midori, Sakyia, this is Junpei. He’s one of my more frequent customers.” She took his payment from the counter, entered it, and gave him change.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, bowing his head to them both. “Welcome to Sannoh.“

Despite his baby face, Sakyia recognized his kind right away. The gangster types who frequented the warehouses and clubs around the bayside of the city carried the same similar shadiness about them. Sakyia saw them all the time growing up: they’d be the ones placing bets, taking bets, and on the sidelines with their fighters or participating in the fights. She wondered if he’d ever gone there. The bay district might be too far for him. She stepped closer to her mother.

“You must need a lot of packages delivered quickly to be considered a regular here,” Sakyia said curiously.

“A lot of people in Sannoh use your aunt’s business,” he replied innocently. “Not everyone is able to go outside town to get packages delivered and going through post offices takes longer.”

“I can’t promise it’ll get to your friend by tomorrow,” Hana cut in. “I haven’t found a courier since Koichi quit.”

“That’s fine,” Junpei told her. “I just need it there as soon as possible."

"I understand," Hana nodded. She struggled to put the parcel on the tall stack of boxes until Junpei came and helped her. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I’m going to be buried in these boxes at this rate.”

“I can always have one of the gang come help you,” he said. “Chiharu and Dan would be glad to help.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled. “Tell them I’ll pay them well for it. If they don’t get lost, that is.”

“Dan only got lost once,” Junpei defended gently.

“Twice.”

“Alright, yes, twice. I’ll let them know and send them here.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she patted his cheek tenderly. “You take care of yourself now, and wear a helmet when you ride that thing,” she nodded to the motorcycle outside. “You could get in an accident and crack your head open.”

Junpei nodded, “I will, Ms. Kimura.” He turned over to Midori and Sakyia, and nodded again, “It was nice meeting you both.” He looked right at Sakyia as he said, “I’ll see you around.”

He reminded her of those dreamy characters in manga. The tsundere characters with kind hearts who sport leather jackets and ride motorcycles. They pretend not to care, but they care very deeply. She admitted he was handsome. Even a blind person would think he was handsome. But, something about him kept her distance, but then again, she kept everyone at a distance.

Except her mother.

Sakyia looked back to her aunt and her mother, who’d begun catching up while her aunt shut down the store for the day. She decided she’d make her way up to the apartment and begin unpacking her things. Junpei came to mind. If he was what she thought he was, then Sannoh might be more dangerous than it seemed. Sakyia remembered the gangs who’d come strutting into the warehouse; Jiro usually owed them money, so she’d become good at spotting them. They either wore flashy clothes, business suits or leather jackets. Junpei was clearly the ‘leather jacket’ kind.

She’d need to keep an eye out for him.

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