The Yakuza’s Mute Bride novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I couldn’t concentrate that day.

The professor’s voice blurred into background noise, the words dissolving before they could take shape. My notebook stayed open but untouched, my pencil resting between my fingers like a prop from another life. The stranger’s voice – her disdain. her perfectly composed smile – echoed louder than the lecture. Ordinary. That word clung to me like a stain.

When the class ended, I moved on autopilot, gathering my things in silence. My heartbeat was still uneven as I stepped out into the corridor.

Ai and Yukito were waiting on the bench outside. They straightened the moment they saw me, but I could tell they were puzzled by my expression.

“Daijoubu? Are you okay?” Ai asked softly.

I shook my head, forcing a small smile that felt brittle. “Mm,” I murmured, trying to sound casual. I didn’t know how to explain what had happened. How could I? Saying it aloud would make it real, and I wasn’t ready to face what it meant.

So I said nothing.

Ai and Yukito exchanged a look – one of those silent exchanges between people who’d been through too much together. They didn’t press further, only fell into step beside me as we walked toward the campus gates.

It was drizzling again, the kind of soft London rain that blurred reflections and made everything look faintly unreal. Students hurried past with umbrellas and takeaway cups. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed — the sound too loud, too alive.

I barely noticed.

–

I hadn’t realized, until that moment, that my presence might already be known to people connected to the Masayoshi clan. That someone could find me even here, across an ocean – and speak of me like I was a rumor they’d been waiting to

–

verify.

“Ai,” I called softly. She turned immediately, eyes alert.

I pulled out my notepad and pen, the familiar rhythm grounding me, and began to write.

Who knows that you’re here with me?

She blinked in confusion, glancing toward Yukito as if to confirm she’d read the words right.

“Why do you ask, Naomi-san?” Yukito’s voice was calm, but beneath it, there was a trace of caution.

I shrugged lightly, my breath fogging in the cool air. “Just wondering,” I murmured.

They didn’t seem convinced, but they didn’t push. After a moment, Ai exhaled.

“Not many people know,” she said. “Only a few trusted ones. The fewer who are aware, the safer you are.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because,” Yukito said, his tone firm but low, “if our enemies knew we were here protecting you, they’d see you as Tadashi-

sama’s weakness.”

The word hit harder than I expected.

Weakness.

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Chapter 23

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I stopped walking. The drizzle gathered at the edges of my hair, soaking into my collar. Ai and Yukito both turned back to me, but I could only stare at them, my pulse loud in my ears.

“Tadashi’s… weakness?” I repeated softly.

Ai nodded reluctantly. “You’re important to him. That makes you a target.”

—

The words should have felt like comfort proof that I mattered. But instead, they tightened around my ribs like wire. I didn’t want to be anyone’s weakness. I didn’t want lives rearranged to keep me safe.

I didn’t want to be the reason someone bled.

When we reached the townhouse, Yuka was already waiting with a warm smile and the smell of roasted garlic and soy. A table had been set with small, elegant dishes – grilled fish, miso soup, delicate cuts of sashimi.

“Naomi-chan!” she called, beaming. “Happy birthday again!”.

I blinked, momentarily startled. Right – my birthday. I had forgotten. The day had shifted so many times it barely felt like the same one.

Trying to push away the unease still tangled in my chest, I smiled. “It looks amazing,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

Everyone gathered around the table, Ai and Yukito on either side of me. Yuka poured tea, her movements gentle, precise. The warmth of the cup seeped into my palms, grounding me.

For a moment, the noise of laughter and clinking dishes almost made me forget everything else.

Almost.

Halfway through the meal, I caught sight of the security guards outside through the rain-slicked glass doors – familiar silhouettes keeping their distance under the awning. Something in me ached.

“They should join us,” I said suddenly.

Ai blinked. “The guards?”

I nodded. “They’ve been standing there all day.”

Yuka hesitated, then smiled and went to call them in. They entered awkwardly, bowing politely, unsure of their place at the table. I smiled to ease their discomfort and gestured for them to sit.

That night, I learned their names: Hiro, Aoka, Rui, and Kenzo.

By the time dinner ended, the air felt lighter. Laughter threaded through the room. Ai teased Yukito about his solemn expression; Yuka fussed over the leftovers. For a while, I almost believed that this – this quiet, warm space – could be my real life.

Later, we gathered in the living room. The rain had deepened into a steady rhythm against the windows. Yuka and Ai were flipping through magazines, Yukito read the newspaper, and I sat on the sofa, absently watching TV.

The channel had switched to a news broadcast. I wasn’t really paying attention until I saw her.

The same woman from that morning.

Perfect hair. Diamond smile. Poised, confident as if the world bent toward her effortlessly.

A banner scrolled across the screen:

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Chapter 23

“Yamaguchi Corporation Acquired by T. Shun Holdings.”

I froze.

1. Shun Holdings.

That was the name on Tadashi’s business card.

My throat went dry. “Ai, Yukito – who is this woman?”

They looked up immediately.

“What woman?” Ai asked, rising from her seat.

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“That one.” I pointed to the screen, my voice cracking. The woman was speaking now, explaining the merger in a calm, polished tone.

They came closer, their attention sharpening.

“What…?” Ai breathed, eyes widening.

Yukito frowned, his hand tightening around the edge of the table. “This can’t be…”

Their unease made something cold bloom in my chest.

“Who is she?” I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Reiko Yamaguchi,” Ai said finally, her tone hesitant.

I repeated the name in my head – Reiko Yamaguchi.

“Why are you asking?” Yukito asked quietly, his gaze fixed on me, as if he already suspected the reason.

“I met her today,” I said softly.

The room went still.

Yuka’s magazine slipped from her hands onto the carpet. Ai’s mouth parted in disbelief.

“When?” Yukito asked, voice low.

“In class,” I murmured. “She sat beside me.”

I didn’t tell them what she’d said – the way her words had cut, the deliberate cruelty in her tone. It felt too intimate to repeat, too dangerous.

Silence fell. Only the rain filled the space between us.

On the TV, the reporter’s voice broke through again:

“Did this merger happen because of your close relationship with Masayoshi after Shun Masayoshi’s passing?”

My heart lurched.

Masayoshi. Tadashi.

Reiko’s smile didn’t falter. She said nothing only tilted her head slightly, the corners of her mouth curving in that same practiced, elegant way I remembered.