Chapter Text
Ayano sat on her bed, her surroundings in disarray, the aftermath of her father's latest outburst. Medical reports and doctor's results lay strewn across the floor, remnants of his thrashing. Jokichi Yudasei-Aishi towered over her, his face a mask of anger and frustration, the memory of it seared into her mind. His voice, loud and harsh, echoed in her ears even now.
"Why can't you just be normal?" he would scream, his eyes wild with a mixture of confusion and desperation. "WHAT ELSE DO YOU FUCKING NEED? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"
The words cut through her like a blade, sharp and relentless. Ayano, even as a young child, couldn't understand why her daddy was so angry, why he looked at her with such a mix of fear and hopelessness. She didn't know what he meant by 'normal' or what he wanted her to change.
It seemed that her daddy was losing his mind. His eyes grew more hollow, his outbursts more frequent. The more he spent time around her mommy, the worse it got. Ayano recalled the tension that hung heavy in the air whenever her parents were together, their arguments echoing through the walls like distant thunder. Ayano could see the toll it took on him, the way he would pace back and forth, muttering to himself, as if searching for an answer that was always just out of reach.
This had become a normal routine to Ayano as she began to recognize the signs of his impending rage. The tightening of his jaw, the clenching of his fists, the way his eyes would dart around the room, looking for something, anything, to make sense of his turmoil. She learned to brace herself, to prepare for the storm that would inevitably come.
Despite the fear and confusion, Ayano felt a strange sense of detachment. She watched her father's descent into madness with a calm, almost clinical detachment, as if observing a scene from a movie. She understood, in a way that she couldn't articulate, that his anger wasn't really about her. It was about something deeper, something broken inside him.
Her mommy's attempts to intervene only seemed to fuel Jokichi's fury. Their arguments grew louder, more vicious, each one leaving deeper scars on Ayano's young heart. She would lie in bed at night, the echoes of their shouting filling her head, her small hands clutching the sheets as if they could shield her from the chaos around her.
In those moments of quiet between the storms, Ayano would try to make sense of it all. She would replay her father's words, searching for some clue, some hint of what he needed from her. But the answers were always elusive, slipping through her fingers like sand.
There were nights that she spent alone, huddled in her bed, the shadows on the walls her only companions. The distant sound of her parents' arguments seeped through the walls, a constant reminder of the discord that had become the soundtrack of her life. She would press her small hands against her ears, trying to block out the noise, but it was always there, an inescapable reality.
Her mommy, Ryoba, never hurt her like Daddy did. But she never paid attention to her. Ryoba was a shadow in Ayano's life, present but distant. She would only be around if Daddy was around, like an echo of his presence. Ryoba never gave Ayano kisses or hugs. She was not a typical mommy. She didn't help her get ready for school, didn't bathe her, didn't make her favorite foods, or tuck her in at night.
Ryoba's indifference was a different kind of pain, a slow, lingering ache that gnawed at Ayano's heart. Ayano often watched her mommy from a distance, trying to understand her. Ryoba spent most of her days either at work or focused on her husband, her attention never lingering on Ayano for long. To Ayano, it was like her mommy lived in a different world, one where Ayano didn't exist. The house felt like a place filled with invisible barriers, separating Ayano from the warmth and affection she craved but never received.
Because her mommy never cooked meals for Ayano, and only for herself and her daddy, Ayano learned to fend for herself. She figured out how to prepare simple meals, her tiny hands carefully measuring water and handling hot pots with the caution of someone far beyond her years. She found a strange comfort in the routine, the small sense of control it gave her amidst the chaos of her home. Boiling water and making instant ramen became a ritual, a way to fill the emptiness that her parents left behind.
Ayano felt the familiar pangs of hunger and quietly made her way to the kitchen. She fetched a chair from the dining room, the legs scraping softly against the floor as she dragged it over to the stove. Climbing onto the chair, she reached for the pot and filled it with water. Her small hands, steady and sure, turned on the stove. The blue flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow that reflected in her eyes.
She stood there, watching the water heat up, steam slowly rising as bubbles began to form at the bottom of the pot. Ayano reached for a packet of instant ramen from the cupboard, tearing it open with practiced ease. She added the noodles to the boiling water, followed by the seasoning packet. The aroma filled the kitchen, a comforting scent that was intimately familiar to her.
Once the noodles were cooked, she turned off the stove and carefully lifted the pot, pouring the hot contents into a bowl. She climbed down from the chair and moved it back to its original place at the dining table.
With her bowl of ramen in hand, Ayano tiptoed her way through the house. Her parents were in the living room, absorbed in a movie. She could hear the faint sounds of dialogue and music, the flickering light from the television casting shadows in the hallway. She moved quietly, her presence a whisper in the silence of the house.
Entering her room, Ayano gently closed the door behind her and sat on her bed. Her best friend, a plush bunny with soft, worn fur, sat beside her. She picked up her spoon and began to eat, each bite a small comfort in the otherwise empty room. The warmth of the broth and the familiarity of the noodles brought a fleeting sense of solace.
As she ate, Ayano's mind wandered. Why did Mommy not care about her? Why did Daddy hate her? She tried to find answers, but they always eluded her, slipping away like shadows in the night. Maybe there really was something wrong with her. But she didn't understand what it was.
She looked at her plush bunny, its button eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. It had been a gift from her parents long ago, back when things seemed simpler. She clutched it tighter, seeking comfort in its softness. The questions continued to swirl in her mind, a never-ending storm of confusion and sadness.
Ayano finished her meal and placed the empty bowl on her bedside table. She lay down, her bunny tucked under her arm, and stared at the ceiling. The house was quiet now, the sounds of the movie in the living room fading into the background. She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would bring a reprieve from the loneliness and unanswered questions.
Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered. Her daddy stormed into her room, his face twisted in a fit of rage. Ayano sat up, clutching her best friend to her chest, her heart pounding. She didn't know what had triggered his anger this time, but she knew better than to speak.
Without warning, he began grabbing her things—her toys, her books, even her clothes—and throwing them into a garbage bin he had brought with him. "You don't need any of this!" he shouted, his voice breaking with emotion. "None of this is helping you!"
Ayano watched in silence, her face expressionless, though her heart was racing. She felt a mixture of fear and helplessness, the familiar sting of being at the mercy of her father's unpredictable wrath. Each item he tossed away was a piece of her world, a small comfort now lost in the chaos.
When he reached for her bunny doll, Ayano instinctively tightened her grip. It was the one thing she couldn't bear to lose. Her father noticed her resistance and his eyes narrowed. With a swift, forceful motion, he wrenched the plush bunny from her hands and tossed it into the bin with the rest of her belongings.
Ayano stared at the spot where her bunny had landed in the garbage bin, a wave of despair washing over her. Something inside her snapped. Typically, she would just remain quiet and watch, enduring her father's rage with silent resignation. But this time, all she could see was red. The next thing she knew, she couldn't control herself.
With a sudden burst of energy, Ayano lunged at her father. Her small fists pummeled his chest and arms, her movements wild and frantic. Her father, taken by surprise, struggled to get her off him. He tried to grab her wrists, to push her away, but Ayano's rage gave her a strength she didn't know she possessed.
"Stop it, Ayano!" he shouted, his voice panicked and angry. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. The years of pent-up frustration, confusion, and hurt exploded out of her in a torrent of raw emotion.
Her father's shouts and the sounds of the struggle filled the room, echoing off the walls. Suddenly, her mommy burst into the room, her face a mask of shock and anger. Without hesitation, she grabbed Ayano, pulling her away from her father with a force that sent them both stumbling.
"What is wrong with you?" Ryoba screamed, her voice cutting through the chaos. Her grip on Ayano was painfully tight, her nails digging into her daughter's skin. She began to hit Ayano, each blow landing with a sharp sting. "How dare you attack your daddy! How dare you!"
Ayano tried to shield herself, her arms coming up to protect her head. The pain was sharp and immediate, but it was nothing compared to the hurt she felt inside. Her mother's words cut deeper than any physical blow, reinforcing the belief that she was fundamentally flawed, undeserving of love or kindness.
Her father, now free from Ayano's assault, stood up, his face a mix of anger and bewilderment. He watched as Ryoba continued to hit Ayano, his expression hardening. "Enough, Ryoba," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "That's enough."
Ryoba stopped, her breathing heavy, her eyes blazing with anger. She released Ayano, who fell to the floor in a heap, her body trembling from the physical and emotional onslaught. Her parents stood over her, their shadows long and foreboding in the dim light of the room.
"Get up," Ryoba commanded, her voice cold. Ayano slowly got to her feet, her body aching from the blows and her heart heavy with despair. She kept her eyes downcast, not daring to look at her parents in fear of what they might do next.
"We're no longer going to deal with you," Ryoba said, her tone harsh and final. "Get in the car."
Ayano's eyes flicked toward the garbage bin where her bunny was buried under a pile of her belongings. The longing to retrieve it was almost overwhelming, but she knew better than to disobey. With a heavy heart, she turned away from the bin and did as she was told, moving towards the door.
Her father was silent, his eyes cold as he watched her. Ayano's movements were slow and deliberate, each step a painful reminder of the violence she had just endured. She made her way to the front door, the weight of her parents' rejection pressing down on her like a physical force.
Outside, the day was bright and clear, the sun high in the sky. Ayano walked to the car, her footsteps echoing on the pavement. She opened the door and climbed into the back seat, the leather warm against her skin from the afternoon sun. She stared out the window, her mind a swirl of confusion and fear.
Her parents followed her, their expressions grim and resolute. Her father started the car, and they drove off in the late afternoon. Ayano didn't ask where they were going; she didn't speak at all. She just stared out the window, watching the familiar streets pass by in a blur.
The drive felt like an eternity, the silence in the car heavy and oppressive. Ayano's thoughts drifted back to her bunny, her books, her toys—all the things that had been taken from her. She wondered what would happen next, what new form of punishment awaited her.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the city, the car came to a stop. Her father turned off the engine, and her mother opened the door, stepping out into the dusk. Ayano followed, her movements slow and reluctant.
As Ayano looked ahead, she saw the van and the two imposing men standing beside it. One was tall and broad-shouldered, exuding an intensity that seemed to command the space around him.
Her mother, as if a switch had been flipped, transformed her demeanor completely. Gone was the harshness and anger, replaced by a cheerful sweetness that Ayano had never seen before. She didn't comment on the sudden change, just watched silently as her mother approached the younger man with a burst of sunlight in her voice.
"Hey, Atatsuma-kun," Ryoba greeted warmly, her tone cutting through the shadows. The younger man turned, his countenance shifting for a fleeting moment into a fraction of a smile. Ayano had never seen her mother like this before but made no comment.
Her mommy approached the younger man, her arms enveloping him in a hug that seemed almost contradictory to his intimidating presence. As they separated, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek, a brief touch that softened his hardened edges. "I'm glad you're willing to look after Ayano until I come back," she said.
Ayano was shocked at the sudden change. What did she mean by that? Before she could react, the man grunted, his voice a rough timbre. "Yeah, yeah, now go get your shit together, Ryoba," he retorted, a hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. His gaze held hers, a blend of camaraderie and concern that spoke volumes.
Her mommy's laughter echoed, a melody of carefree notes. She turned to Ayano, her cheerfulness undiminished as she knelt before her. "Be a good girl for papa and oji-san, alright, Ayano?" she whispered.
Ayano knew this was a facade but made no comment. Instead, she nodded, her face still devoid of expression, her eyes like distant stars. "Yes, Mother."
Ryoba stood, her smile a radiant beacon even as she turned away, her footsteps fading as she walked back to her car. The engine roared to life, a rumbling crescendo that reverberated through the air. Ayano watched as her mother drove away, the taillights disappearing into the gathering twilight.
Left alone with the two men, Ayano felt a new wave of uncertainty wash over her. Could these men be different? Would they treat her better than her parents had? Or was she simply stepping into another chapter of her ongoing nightmare?
She glanced at Togo His gaze was steady, perhaps even reassuring, but she couldn't be sure if it was genuine or just another facade like her mother's. The uncertainty gnawed at her, twisting her insides into knots.
Ayano remembered the few moments when her father's rage had turned physical, the cold indifference of her mother, and the crushing loneliness that had become her constant companion. She wondered if she was about to face a new kind of pain, a different flavor of cruelty.
That was a few months ago. Now, Ayano lay in her bed, nestled in her new papa Togo's apartment. She had begun to learn to love her new life under his care, but the scars of her past still haunted her. As she hugged the stuffed rabbit Togo had given her, she felt its softness against her cheek, a comforting presence amidst the memories that still lingered.
Ayano could still feel the sting of her mother's blows, the pain of her nails digging into her skin. The echoes of her father's angry voice reverberated in her mind, each word a sharp blade cutting into her fragile sense of self-worth. She recalled the sight of her beloved belongings being callously tossed into the garbage, discarded like she was nothing. The crushing feeling of rejection weighed heavily on her heart, a burden she carried every day. She squeezed the rabbit tighter, as if it could somehow chase away the haunting images.
Ayano had tried so hard to be normal, to show her mommy and daddy that she was capable of feeling and expressing emotions. She had danced with all the intensity she could muster, her small body moving with a determination that belied her age. But he never gave her a chance. No matter how hard she tried, it was never enough.
Ayano's little mind ran as she thought she could see her mommy in the darkest corner of her room. The shadows played tricks on her, morphing into familiar yet terrifying shapes. Her heart raced, and she clutched the stuffed rabbit even tighter, its soft fur a small comfort against the tide of fear.
She took a deep breath, trying to remind herself of where she was. This was her new home, a place where she was cared for and protected. Togo had been patient and kind, offering her a stability she had never known. He wasn’t like her daddy, whose anger had been a constant storm, nor like her mommy, whose coldness had been an unyielding wall.
Ayano looked around her room, filled with the toys and books Togo had gotten for her. It was a stark contrast to the emptiness she had felt before. The walls were painted a soothing shade of blue, and a soft nightlight cast a gentle glow, keeping the darkness at bay.
Despite the comfort, the memories of her past still lingered. Ayano could feel the old wounds reopening, the emotional scars throbbing with a pain that refused to fade. She closed her eyes, willing herself to focus on the present, on the new life she was building.
She took another deep breath, the tension in her body slowly easing. "You're safe now," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "Papa won't let anything happen to you." She repeated the words like a mantra, allowing them to soothe her fears.
Ayano looked over to the dark corner again, but this time it really felt like her mommy was there. The shadows twisted and contorted, morphing into the terrifying figure of her mother, now a monstrous entity, ready to hit her and scratch her once again. Startled and terrified, Ayano sat up, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she scrambled out of bed, the fear overwhelming her. She ran out of her room, her eyes wide with panic, the shadows in the hallway seeming to stretch and reach for her. The darkness felt alive, oppressive, as if it was closing in on her.
Ayano's small feet padded softly on the floor as she hurried towards her papa's bedroom. The hallway seemed endless, a never-ending stretch of darkness and fear. She clutched her stuffed rabbit to her chest like a lifeline, her only source of comfort in the midst of her terror.
Reaching Togo's door, she pushed it open with trembling hands. The room was dimly lit, and she could see his large form lying on the bed. The sight of him brought a wave of relief, and she felt a glimmer of safety amidst her fear.
Quietly, Ayano slipped under the covers, her small body finding its way to Togo's chest. She hugged him tightly, seeking the warmth and security he provided. She nestled her head against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat soothed her, providing a sense of security she had longed for.
Togo lay sprawled across his bed, exhausted from another day balancing his brutal life as a yakuza underboss with his responsibilities as a father. His sleep was deep and dreamless, a brief escape from the chaos that ruled his waking hours. But tonight, the darkness of his past seeped into his dreams, dragging him back to the trenches of his military service.
In his nightmare, Togo was back on the battlefield, the deafening sounds of explosions and gunfire all around him. He saw his best friend, Saburo, the man who had been like a brother to him, falling, blood pouring from a wound Togo couldn’t reach in time. The heavy feeling of loss and helplessness suffocated him, pressing down on his chest like a physical weight.
Suddenly, his eyes flickered open. Instinct took over as his hand shot under his pillow, gripping the handle of the knife he always kept there. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding as he scanned the darkness of his room, searching for the threat.
But as his vision adjusted, he saw the familiar outline of Ayano. She lay on top of his chest, her small body rising and falling with his uneven breaths. The sight of her brought him back to the present, the terror of his dream fading in the face of her steady, calming presence.
“Ayano,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with a gentleness reserved only for her. He released his grip on the knife, his hand trembling slightly as he reached up to gently stroke her hair. “What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?”
"Papa," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "There's a monster in my room."
Togo's heart softened at the sight of her, his fierce expression melting into one of concern. Despite her emotionless demeanor, Ayano sought him out for protection, a clear sign of the trust she placed in him.
He sat up, lifting her gently into his arms. "A monster, huh?" he muttered, his voice gruff but tender. "Ain't no monster gonna mess with my baby girl."
Ayano clung to him, her small arms wrapped around his neck. Togo could feel the slight tremor in her body, and it stirred a protective instinct deep within him. "Let’s go take a look, alright?" he said, standing up and carrying her with ease.
They made their way to Ayano’s room, the hallway dimly lit by the soft glow of a nightlight. Togo pushed the door open with his foot, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. He knew there were no real monsters here, but to Ayano, the fear was very real.
He set her down gently on her bed and knelt beside her, his eyes level with hers. “Alright, baby,” he said, his voice firm but reassuring. “Where’s this monster you saw?”
Ayano pointed to the corner of the room, where the shadows were deepest. Togo stood up, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for battle. He strode over to the corner, flicking on the light to banish the shadows.
“See?” he said, turning back to Ayano with a small, reassuring smile. “Ain’t nothin’ here. No monster’s gonna come near you while I’m around.”
Ayano watched him with her usual unreadable expression, but there was a subtle shift in her posture, a tiny sign of relief. She nodded, accepting his words without question.
Togo walked back to her, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You feelin’ better now?”
She nodded again, her eyes never leaving his face. “Yes, Papa.”
“Good,” he said softly. “Now, how about we get you back to sleep, huh?”
Ayano lay down, pulling the covers up to her chin. Togo sat with her until her breathing evened out, his presence a silent promise of protection. Once he was sure she was asleep, he stood up, brushing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“Sweet dreams, Ayano,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Papa’s always gonna keep you safe.”
He left the room quietly, leaving the door slightly ajar. As he made his way back to his own bed, he felt a deep sense of fulfillment. These moments of tenderness and trust with Ayano kept him grounded despite the darkness and danger in his life. He lay back down, closing his eyes, the weight of his responsibilities still heavy on his shoulders but balanced by the lightness Ayano brought into his life.
Sitting up, she looked around the darkened room. The noise persisted, a soft shuffling that sent a chill down her spine. Clutching the stuffed rabbit tightly, Ayano slipped out of bed, her bare feet making no sound on the cold floor. She moved cautiously towards the closet, every step filled with dread.
As she reached the closet doors, Ayano hesitated. The memories of her daddy's harsh words and violent actions flooded her mind. Steeling herself, she slowly opened the doors, her breath catching as a jacket brushed against her face. The light touch was enough to send her into a panic, her young mind too paranoid to rationalize it as just a jacket.
Terrified, Ayano retreated swiftly from the closet, her pulse racing. She dashed back to Togo's bedroom, her feet barely making a sound. Without a word, she climbed onto his bed and lay on his chest once again, seeking the safety and comfort she found in his presence.
Just as he was about to fall asleep, Togo felt a heavy weight on his chest again. He opened his eyes and looked over to see Ayano settling on top of him once more. His immediate alertness softened into concern as he gently sat up, cradling her in his arms.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.
Ayano’s gaze was steady, her voice calm. “The monster is back, Papa.”
Togo sighed softly, but his expression remained gentle. He stood up, carrying Ayano back to her room. “Alright, princess,” he said, setting her down gently on her bed. “Where’s this monster at?”
Ayano pointed toward the closet, her face expressionless but her eyes focused. Togo squared his shoulders and strode over to the closet, throwing the door open with a dramatic flourish.
“Listen up, you damn monster,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “If you keep messin’ with my little girl, I’ll come in here and beat the crap outta you myself. Got it?”
He paused for effect, then stepped into the closet, pretending to engage in an argument with the imaginary monster. “Oh, you think you’re tough?” he continued, his voice rising as he acted out the confrontation. “Well, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”
Togo moved around inside the closet, making exaggerated punching sounds and grunts as if he were in a fierce battle. He kicked the door lightly from the inside, adding to the dramatic effect. “Take that, and that!” he shouted, his tone playful yet convincingly intense.
After a few moments, he stepped out of the closet, brushing off his hands and giving Ayano a triumphant smile. "Monster's gone," he assured her. "Ain't nobody gonna hurt you while I'm around."
Ayano’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. She nodded, accepting his words. “Thank you, Papa.”
Togo walked over to her, kneeling by her bed and tucking her in once more. “You’re safe now, sweetie,” he said softly.
Ayano’s eyes fluttered closed, but Togo noticed how she still seemed hesitant, her small body tense under the covers. Her eyes opened again, and there was a slight tremble in her voice as she said, “Papa, can I stay with you?”
Togo’s heart softened at her request. He saw the fear that lingered just beneath her stoic exterior. “Of course, sweetheart,” he replied, scooping her up gently into his arms.
Ayano nestled against him, her small body fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm. Togo carried her back to his bedroom, her head resting on his shoulder. As they settled into his bed, he pulled the covers over them both, creating a cocoon of safety and warmth.
He noticed how Ayano still seemed startled, her grip on him tight. Her tiny fingers clung to his shirt, and he could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his chest. Togo wanted to soothe her, to chase away the remnants of fear from her mind.
He began to hum a soft tune, one he remembered from his own childhood. The melody was simple and gentle, a lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was a boy. As he hummed, he felt Ayano’s grip slowly relax, her body easing into the comfort of his embrace.
“Close your eyes, have no fear," He began to hum a soft tune, one he remembered from his own childhood. "The monster's gone, he's on the run, and your daddy's here," he sang quietly, his rough voice surprisingly gentle. "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl," He sang softly as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
Ayano's breathing began to slow, her eyes fluttering shut as she relaxed in his embrace. Togo continued to hum the soothing melody, his heart swelling with love for his little princess.
As the minutes passed, Ayano’s hold on him loosened completely, her small body finally succumbing to sleep. Togo watched her for a moment, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and protectiveness. This little girl, who had come into his life and changed everything, was now the center of his world.
He kissed the top of her head gently, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet room. “Sweet dreams, Ayano. Papa’s always gonna keep you safe.”
With Ayano nestled against him, Togo closed his eyes, the darkness now a comforting blanket rather than a suffocating shroud. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of completeness, knowing that no matter what monsters—real or imagined—might come their way, they would face them together.