You couldn't say that you'd had a particularly good childhood.

"Why are you coming back so late again? Where have you been?!"

Growing up, you were no stranger to being curled up in your bed late in the night, listening to your mother and father scream at each other from the living room. You'd struggled to understand it at first back when you were really young, but the older you got, it became clear to you that your father was getting involved in things that he shouldn't.

Your father had a problem with drinking. And gambling. Your mother had tried time and time again to get him to quit, but he refused to listen. He never raised his hand against you or anything, but he was cold; distant, even. The deeper he sank into his addictions, he started feeling less like your father and more like a stranger.

One day, things took a turn for the worse.

You still remembered it vividly. There you were, seated at the table eating your breakfast, when your father came stumbling through the front door. He hadn't come home last night, and he reeked of booze, like always. There was something different this time, though. This time, he was covered in cuts and bruises.

Your mother dropped to her knees in a panic. "What happened?! You're hurt... who did this to you? Did you get in a fight?!"

"I'm fine," he gritted out, and shoved her aside. "A business deal just didn't go as planned, that's all."

"Business deal? What on earth are you talking about?"

You swallowed what was left in your mouth and stared at them in silence. By now, you knew that this wasn't the kind of stuff a child was meant to get involved in. Even so, you could still tell that something was really wrong. And with the way your mother's eyes were gradually widening, she realized it too.

She stormed off and came back with her purse, digging out her wallet. It took all of two seconds for her face to turn pale.

"Where's all the money?" she shuddered. "I just went to the bank for a withdrawal the other day. I needed it to make a down payment on the new car. The owners said they'd only accept cash or cheque. Where is the money?"

Your father let out a sigh. "Listen, don't freak out-"

"Don't tell me what to do! What in the hell have you done with the money?!"

"Stop yelling," he snapped. "[Name] can hear you."

"Good," your mother choked out. "She should know how big of a scumbag her father is. I told you what would happen if you ever stole from me again. I told you!"

"Goddammit, you dumb bitch!" He pushed her against the wall, hard enough that you jolted in your seat. "I'm telling you it's going to be fine, so just listen to me for a change! The guys I'm with now are going to take good care of us. One of the idiots I was with messed up last night, but I told them it wasn't going to happen again. I just need to pitch in a little bit more. A little more money and then we'll be set for life."

She quivered, eyes filling with tears. "What in the hell are you on about now? You're still getting involved with those gangsters? That's why you've been beaten so badly? You're absolutely insane. Those men are dangerous. You're going to get us all killed."

"Those men are going to take care of us. Once I become a fully-fledged member, things will turn around. We won't have to worry about money anymore."

"They are criminals. How dare you get us roped into your schemes! Have you ever for a second stopped to think about the wellbeing of your daughter?!"

"I'm keeping all of us safe," he glowered. "You're just too stubborn to see it. This is how I protect my family."

The tears came rolling down her cheeks. "Liar. You've never once cared about this family. All you've ever done is gamble and drink our money away. You've even compromised [Name]'s future. You are a horrible man."

"Fuck, you're such an ungrateful bitch!" He slammed his fist against the wall. Your father had never been violent with you before, but it had only just occurred to you that it may not have been the case for your mother.

"Get out," your mother sobbed. "Get out right now."

"You're going to regret this," he warned. "When I'm rich and sitting pretty, you'll be begging for me to come back."

"I will never regret it. Not for a single moment of my life. Now get out before I call the police and tell them you've threatened to hurt my daughter."

He didn't say anything else. He just scoffed and spat in your mother's face, collected his things, then left.

That day was the last time you ever saw your father.

...

"Excuse me, I'm here to visit my mom."

The receptionist lifted her brows and peered up at you. "What's your name?"

"[Last Name] [Name]. She should be in a room on the third floor, unless she got moved for some reason."

"Here's your visitor's pass," the woman nodded, handing you a card dangling from a string. "Room 305."

"Thank you."

You hung the visitor's pass around your neck and gripped the bouquet tighter. By now, you were no stranger to navigating the hospital's countless intersecting hallways. The scent of antiseptic and some other stale, vaguely ominous smell had long since become familiar to you. It wasn't ideal, but this was your life. And all the more reason to appreciate what you still had.

"Hey, mom."

You pushed open the door and lightly knocked to get her attention. She turned towards you, smiling like always, though her fatigue was easily apparent based on the heavy, dark circles under her eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart." She lifted her brows a bit. "Are those flowers for me?"

"Of course," you grinned. "I brought your favorites."

"Haha. My favorites change with every season. I'm surprised you can even keep track."

"Yet another reason why I'm such an amazing daughter." She chuckled at your joke, and you went to replace the old flowers in the vase with the fresh ones you'd just brought. Once you were done, you shook your hands of the water and grabbed a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. "How are you feeling today?"

She smiled weakly. "Oh, you know. Same as usual. Not too great, not too bad. But still kicking. I'm waiting for it to all get better. I'm not going to let this beat me."

"I know you will, mom. You're so strong."

You squeezed her hand, gasping a bit when you felt how weak her grip was.

"No need to get all sappy," she chuckled. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Of course. I know that. Oh, right," you remembered, digging into your pocket to pull out a handful of wrapped candies. "I remembered you really liked these the last time I brought them. I got a bunch more flavors this time."

"Ooh! Thanks, honey! Technically, I'm not supposed to be eating these. They keep me on a pretty strict diet around here..."

"A little every now and then can't hurt," you mused.

"That's what I keep telling them! It's like they're allergic to happiness."

You unwrapped a few candies for her and handed them off. She popped several of them into her mouth at once, humming contentedly.

"Sugar is exactly what I need," she said, rolling the candies around in her mouth. "I'm already feeling better!"

"In moderation, though. Too many and your stomach will start to feel all gross."

She elbowed you in the ribs. "Hey, I'm not an old lady just yet."

"Nah, it's not about being old. The other day I ate a chocolate bar and almost puked it up afterwards. I guess my body's just not what it used to be. Man, it's hard getting old."

"Twenty-one isn't old," she snorted. "Don't make me climb out of this bed and fight you."

"My point is, just take it easy. It's better to eat slowly and savor them anyways, right?"

"Right. I'll have to hide them, though. The nurse that waits on me most of the time is kind of a hard-ass."

"Is she the one with the really tight bun that wears way too much hair gel?"

"Yes. Her. She doesn't seem to like any of my jokes, either. I'm just trying to lift her spirits," she sighed. "I can only imagine how tired she must be, working such long shifts all the time..."

You smiled inwardly. How typical of your mom. Always worrying about others even when she was hardly feeling her best. You really respected that about her. That and the fact that she was so strong, having endured so much, and practically raised you all on her own. You could only hope that you would grow up to be as good of a person as her.

"I brought sudoku," you said, pulling out a big book from your backpack. "Want to fill some out together?"

She pressed her index finger against her lips. "Hm. How about this time we each fill out our own separately, to see who can finish the fastest?"

"Oh, man. Get ready to lose."

"Famous last words."

You went on like that for a good while, just chatting and playing little games together. If it was up to you, then you'd probably be staying at the hospital until late in the evening, but your mother always insisted that you go home and get some rest. She knew that you were a full-time student balancing two part-time jobs, and worried that you spent every bit of free time you had checking in on her.

"I can stay a bit longer," you tried.

Your mother frowned. "No. You're always worrying about me, but I know that you must be dead on your feet. Please, for my sake, go home and actually sleep for a change."

"It's fine. I'm used to being tired."

"No, it isn't. You're supposed to be living out the best years of your life, and yet..." She cast her head down, eyes brimming with tears. "All you ever do is look after me. The hospital bills are already so expensive, and you worked for so long to put yourself through school... I just... I feel like I've failed you."

"Mom. Stop that." You squeezed her hand and offered a reassuring smile. "I'm all good. I don't mind having to work harder than others. It makes everything that much more worthwhile. I just want you to be happy too."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, quickly breaking down into a full-blown sob. "Y-You're always so good to me..."

"It's okay, mom. Everything's going to be fine."

You wrapped your arms around her frail body and hugged her. She cried into your shoulder, and you knew it was taking every bit of strength she had to hug you back.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," you smiled. "Try to listen to the nurses and doctor until then, okay? And make sure to hide the candies."

She chuckled through her tears. "Right. I'll do that."

"Love you, mom."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

You kissed her on the cheek, slowly broke away from the hug, and looked back at her one last time.

...

It happened in the middle of the night.

You struggled to sleep even on a good day. Years of overexertion had basically fried your nervous system. Of course, you would sooner die than admit that to your mother. She already worried enough. Besides, it didn't matter if you were tired. You were still healthy enough, you were still here, living in this world. And you'd be damned if you weren't going to work your ass off to make sure things would be okay.

Unfortunately, this time you'd actually been asleep, so you groaned loudly at the sound of your phone vibrating under your pillow. You pulled it out, eyes squinting from the flash of light, and pressed it against your ear without even giving a good glance at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hi. This is [Name], correct? We have your phone number on file here."

"Who's asking?" you frowned, still half-asleep.

"Yokohama General Hospital. I'm sorry for disturbing you at this hour, but it is my job to regretfully inform you that your mother passed earlier this evening."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Our doctors did everything they could. It was a case of acute liver failure, unrelated to the symptoms we'd been monitoring for a long time. I must offer my sincerest condolences. She's been moved to the morgue, so whenever you'd be able to come by we could bring you down to see her..."

The woman kept droning on and on, but you weren't really listening anymore. You felt sick. The back of your neck had become drenched in a cold sweat. It was difficult to breathe. Your heart felt like it was being gripped so forcefully that it might explode.

In the back of your mind, you'd always known that you might have to prepare yourself for this day. Your mother had been sick for a long time, but you'd always held out the hope that she would get better. You wanted to believe that your hard work would pay off. That there would be meaning to all your optimism, your aspirations for the future.

Now, you just felt empty.

"...miss?" the woman called out. "Can you hear me okay? Does that sound alright to you?"

You blinked hollowly. "Sorry... what?"

"I was asking if you would be able to come by early tomorrow morning to stop by the morgue. You'll need to make preparations to move her to the funeral home. We'll provide you with a list of facilities we recommend."

"Oh, okay. Yeah. That sounds fine."

"Very well, then. We'll see you tomorrow. Once again, sorry for your loss."

The line clicked off, and you were left staring up at the ceiling in the darkness of your room.

You didn't get a wink of sleep that night, but that much went without saying. Strangely enough, the visit to the morgue wasn't as terrifying as you'd expected it to be. Your mother looked almost exactly the same as always. Her skin was almost translucent, still with that yellowish hue to her natural shade. She was as gaunt as ever, but now, she looked almost peaceful. As if she was finally getting the rest she deserved.

It was that much stranger because you still hadn't cried. You couldn't cry, almost as if you were still in denial about the whole thing. You told yourself you didn't have time to cry. Not yet. You needed to deal with the funeral preparations and give your mother the best send-off she could ask for.

Everything was difficult, and expensive, but you buckled down as always and made it work. You would have to take out another loan after this. It was fine. You would worry about that afterwards. After your mother was put to rest.

As far as family was concerned, you didn't have any. Your mother didn't have any siblings, so you didn't have any aunts or uncles, and her parents had passed away many years ago as well. As for your father's side of the family... you were none the wiser. He'd disappeared such a long time ago, you realized that you hardly even knew anything about them. You didn't even think to try and track him down, to figure out whether he was even alive anymore. He was a cruel person who'd only ever abandoned his wife and daughter, and he sure as hell didn't have the right to say his goodbyes now.

Even so, your mother had been a kind, beloved woman. She had many people whom she could call friends, and so you did your due diligence to ensure that they would be present to honor her life. On the day of the funeral, you were happy to see that all of them had showed up. They all hugged you tight, some of them having to bite back their tears, and praised you for always working so hard on behalf of your mother.

The burial was the hardest part. You'd prepared a eulogy, of course. It hadn't been too difficult to write, mainly because there were so many good things to say about her. How she'd never lost her optimism. How she'd raised you to be strong and kind, to always face forward no matter what life threw at you. Even during the eulogy, you didn't cry. Even when everyone else did, you still didn't cry.

Not even when the casket was being lowered into the ground.

"Listen up, honey. When I'm gone, I want a big feast in my honor. The dinner after the funeral is the best part. I want everyone to be able to have a good time. I don't want it to be a sad, dreary occasion."

Your mother had always placed an emphasis on the dinner following the funeral. You'd shushed her time and time again, telling her not to say such morbid things and that everything was going to be alright, but now that it had come to this, you were determined to honor her request.

And that was exactly what you did. You led everyone back towards the funeral hall, where a large banquet had been laid out. There, you were better able to speak to all the different families. The mood had visibly lifted, and instead of all the crying during the burial, people were chuckling and telling stories amongst themselves, singing your mother's praises.

Oddly enough, that was when you broke down. It just made you so happy to know that she would live on in everyone else's hearts. You sobbed openly and loudly, and countless people came up to you in consolation. You chided yourself for ruining your mother's dying wish. She wanted for this to be a happy occasion, so what were you doing crying like this?

But you just couldn't help it. You kept on crying, remembering her gentleness and warmth. You cried and cried until your throat was raw and your eyes were puffy. You cried and cried, and eventually, the funeral was over.

You took a little while to compose yourself, thanked the funeral home owners for renting out the venue this late, and collected your belongings to leave.

The night air was cold, especially since your cheeks were so damp. You adjusted the strap of your bag and sniffled loudly. You didn't own a car; you didn't have that kind of money. So you would need to commute home in the dead of the night, all dressed up in your uncomfortable black dress and heels.

As you walked, however, you noticed a group of people approaching you. It was dark out, and you were a young woman all on her own, so you couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive. Even more so when you realized it was a group made up purely of men.

And they were headed straight towards you.

You considered running, but you realized that would do you no good. Instead, you started making your way back towards the funeral home. The owners were still inside, closing up for the day. Surely these men wouldn't risk trying anything with any witnesses present.

The hand that came clamping down on your wrist quickly dismissed that thought.

"Don't try to run, little lady."

A voice called out to you from the front of the group. One of the men had apparently snuck up on you from behind. You tried to scream, but he quickly clamped his palm over your mouth. His grip was too strong, and you were both mentally and physically exhausted after a long day. You were in no position to struggle.

The tall man that had spoken out before walked right up to you so that you could actually see his face. He had jet-black hair, eyes dark as coal, and a linear scar that ran across one of them. He was dressed up in a suit. All of them were, actually.

"We're not going to hurt you," the man assured, but his throaty chuckle left plenty of room for doubt. "I'm just here to get back what's owed to me. Stay calm and don't kick up a fuss, you hear me?"

You didn't say anything. You couldn't, not with the palm covering your mouth. The perfect ending to the perfect day.

"My name is Shimazaki Ryu," he introduced. "Me and my... associates here are members of a group. A faction, so to speak. And I am the leader of that group. Your father, too, was once a part of this group. He joined back when my old man was still alive and in charge, and you know what he did? That bastard ripped me off. Stole a load of