The Yakuza’s Mute Bride novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The morning they left Hokkaido, the mountains were wrapped in a white veil of fog.

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It was not the soft kind that invited poetry, but a dense, cold breath that carried silence like a warning. The frost bit through the sleeves of my cardigan as I stepped out, clutching my small canvas bag to my chest. Every inhale stung, every exhale ghosted visibly in the air.

The servants lined both sides of the stone path, their heads bowed so low that I could only see the tops of their black hair and the shiver of mist clinging to their shoulders. No one spoke. Not even Yuka-san, who usually whispered a soft take care before I went anywhere.

This silence felt like a ritual-something heavy, something that bound rather than released.

I took one last look at the house I had grown to know-the tall sliding doors, the paper windows still shut tight from the night wind, the faint smoke curling from the kitchen chimney. Beyond the gate stood the old cherry tree. Its branches, naked and silver in the morning frost, reached like fingers trying to hold onto something no longer there.

And that was when I felt it.

A vibration, faint but distinct, from my pocket.

1 froze.

The phone.

My throat closed before my mind could even catch up. Slowly, carefully, I slipped my hand into my coat and pulled it out. The screen, cracked across one corner like a spiderweb, flickered with a single name.

Father.

For a moment, my breath simply stopped.

The last time he called me was years ago-before London, before the silence, before everything broke.

He knew I could speak, once. He also knew how he’d broken me of it-how laughter could cut sharper than any hand.

I still remembered the dinner table, his glass raised, my sister Katrina grinning across from me as he mocked the sound of my voice. A crow, not a girl, he’d said, and they had all laughed until my cheeks burned.

When my voice finally left me, they called it punishment for arrogance. Bad luck, my mother said, shaking her head like she was talking about the weather.

The phone buzzed again, snapping me back.

And then again.

My thumb hesitated over the green icon.

He’d texted me weeks ago. I never replied. Those messages were still there, unopened-like tiny traps waiting for me to step

into.

But now… now he was calling.

Is that why he called?

I glanced toward the car. Tadashi stood by the door, coat draped over his arm, posture perfectly still. Shun-sama was leaning on a cane beside him, wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf, his face half-hidden under a wool hat.

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Chapter 9

The fog seemed thicker around them, as if it were protecting them from the world.

My thumb pressed “Answer.”

The line connected immediately-then the shouting came.

“NAOMI!!! HOW DARE YOU IGNORE MY PHONE? DID YOU READ MY MESSAGE?!”

The voice was so loud it made me flinch. I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen as if the name alone could bite.

What was it with him and shouting? It felt almost nostalgic, in the worst way.

When I finally brought the phone back to my mouth, my voice came out raw, gravelly, and strange. “I thought… you didn’t want to hear anything from me again, Father. Isn’t that what you said when I turned eighteen?”

The silence that followed was sharp. Then came the sneer.

“Ugh. Your voice sounds even more disgusting than I remember.”

My stomach twisted. The words still found their mark after all these years.

“Your loving boyfriend made a problem,” he continued, venom coating every word. “You need to come and solve this mess. Now.”

My fingers tightened on the phone. “Problem?” I croaked, my throat burning. “Why me? I’m not the one who made it. Why should I be involved at all?”

“YOU LITTLE-COME THIS INSTANT OR I’LL DRAG YOU MYSELF!”.

The roar of his voice made my ears ring. I wanted to laugh-how absurd that after years of silence, this was what brought him back. Not concern. Not regret. Only anger and convenience.

But before I could even think of what to say, another voice cut through the fog.

“Naomi.”

It wasn’t loud.

But it was enough.

I turned.

Tadashi stood by the car, the black vehicle gleaming dully in the pale light. He wasn’t looking at me in anger, nor impatience -his tone was calm, but it carried command. His hand held the door open, the other supporting his grandfather.

For a split second, I wondered if he had heard my father’s voice through the receiver. My cheeks burned.

I hung up quickly. The silence in my car was almost a relief.

I hurried toward them, bowing low in apology before daring to look up. Shum-sama grumbled about unnecessary ceremony as Tadashi helped him into the car.

“You’ll sit beside him,” Tadashi said without looking at me.

I blinked, pointing to myself.

“Yes,” he said, and this time his eyes softened just enough for me to notice. “He’ll rest better if you’re near.”

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Warmth bloomed quietly in my chest, fragile as glass. I nodded, clutching my bag tighter as I climbed in beside the old man.

The car door shut with a soft thud, sealing us away from the world.

The drive through the mountain pass was long and winding. Pines blurred into streaks of dark green, the fog thinning into delicate ribbons that followed us down the slope.

I watched the world unfold outside the window-fields fading into towns, roofs coated in snow, the horizon slowly swallowing the frost.

Beside me, Shun-sama dozed, his breaths shallow but steady. Every so often, he stirred and muttered a few words under his breath-names I didn’t know, half-prayers, maybe.

When his blanket slipped, I lifted it gently, tucking it closer around his chest. My hand lingered a second too long on his arm. His skin was paper-thin, like the edges of old letters.

From the driver’s seat, Tadashi’s reflection flickered in the rearview mirror. His eyes weren’t the eyes of the man who’d once dragged me across a floor in fury. They were focused-steady-but softer when they caught sight of me tending to his grandfather.

That was how I knew.

He didn’t look at me with suspicion anymore.

He looked at me like someone trying, awkwardly, to understand.

We stopped once at a rest area around midday.

The sky had cleared by then, pale blue stretching endlessly over the highway.

Shun-sama refused food at first, insisting he wasn’t hungry, but I managed to coax him into sipping a little broth. His hand shook as he took the spoon, and I steadied it with both of mine.

“Bossy girl,” he muttered.

I smiled faintly, mouthing ‘Eat.’

He sighed, but obeyed.

Tadashi was a few meters away, leaning against the car, talking on his phone in clipped Japanese. The tone of his voice was all business sharp, efficient. But the way he pinched the bridge of his nose when he hung up told me he hadn’t slept much.

–

When our eyes met, I tilted my head slightly in question,

He hesitated, then said, “It’s the hospital. They’re preparing his room,

I mouthed ‘Good’

His lips twitched almost, almost a smile. “You really can’t stop worrying, can you?”

I tilted my head again, unsure whether he was teasing me or scolding me.

He exhaled and leaned back, folding his arms. “Ie likes you,” he said finally, “Grandfather doesn’t trust easily… but you’ve made him softer.”

The words startled me. I hadn’t expected praise – least of all from him.

“He’s rarely kind to strangers,” Tadashi continued. His eyes lifted briefly toward the sleeping figure in the car. “But you—he

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calls you the quiet one with the steady hands.”

I looked down, cheeks warming, fingers twisting the hem of my coat.

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Tadashi’s gaze lingered for a second longer than usual. Then he turned away abruptly, voice lower. “Finish your meal. We’ll reach Tokyo before nightfall.”

But the faint warmth in his tone stayed with me long after the car started again.

By the time we reached the city, the sun was sinking.

Tokyo spread before me like a living constellation – towers and lights, glass and rain. The fog of Hokkaido felt like another life.

I pressed my palm against the window, eyes wide as we entered the private drive leading into the hospital complex. The glass towers reflected a thousand pinpoints of light; the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and rain.

A group of doctors and nurses were already waiting at the entrance, bowing low as Tadashi opened the door. He moved like someone born into command

speaking fast, switching between polite tones and firm directives.

–

I followed closely behind the stretcher carrying Shun-sama, trying not to get in the way. But I noticed something strange.

Every corridor we passed, people bowed – not just doctors, but men in dark suits, standing at quiet attention. Their eyes flicked to Tadashi, then to me.

They whispered his name with a kind of reverence.

Masayoshi.

The name rolled off their tongues differently here. In Hokkaido, it sounded like a family name. In Tokyo, it sounded like

power.

When they reached the private elevator, two men in suits stepped aside and bowed so low that their foreheads nearly brushed the floor. One of them caught my gaze for half a second – his eyes sharp, assessing, like he was memorizing my face.

A chill crawled up my spine.

Who were they? No who was Tadashi Masayoshi, really?

–

Shun-sama was settled in a private suite on the top floor, surrounded by quiet hums of machines.

I stayed by the window while Tadashi spoke with the doctors, his voice low and precise.

When everything was finally arranged, the exhaustion hit me like a tide. My legs trembled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten again since lunch time.

Outside, Tokyo’s night stretched endlessly – neon and headlights painting the glass with color.

Behind me, Tadashi’s reflection joined mine in the window.

“You should rest,” he said.

I turned slowly. His expression was unreadable again, but not cold.

–

He hesitated just for a heartbeat then added, “You did well today.”

The words landed softly, almost too softly.

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He left the room before I could respond.

I stood there a long time, staring at the city below, the hum of traffic like a pulse in my ears.

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And when I finally closed my eyes, the fog of Hokkaido drifted back — the sound of my father’s voice, the weight of that phone call.

Somewhere out there, someone waited for me to come back and fix a problem that wasn’t mine.

But now, surrounded by this strange, powerful family- and by a man who could be both cruel and kind in the same breath

– I wasn’t sure which world was more dangerous.

–

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10:36 Tue, Jan 6 •