"What do you mean, he ran into a wall?"

Kei stared at Yoru in shock as the latter spooned some more cake into his mouth. "Eshaly whuh ah shed," said the Omega. "Oh mah wuh 'hunk o' ee ash."

"Enlightening."

Yoru's whole body convulsed as he swallowed a giant morsel, and Kei had to wonder whether the visible lump bobbing in Yoru's neck was his Adam's apple or the colossal mass of hastily chewed cake. "Exactly what I said," Yoru clarified, attacking a fourth piece out of the original six on his plate. "Old man was drunk off his ass."

"Alright, the point is to taste them," Kei snapped, snatching away Yoru's spoon. "And let me have some too, would you?"

Without missing a beat, Yoru picked up the next piece with his fingers and stuffed it into his mouth whole. "Usht um 'usht shuh."

"Fine, fine. You get to decide on the cake. It's not like I'm getting married or anything."

Yoru chewed away happily, without a care for his sulking husband-to-be.

Today was a day of celebration, after all. It was the first time he'd escaped a beating, and as an added cherry on the cupcake, his father had broken bones of his own. Smacking into the wall had broken his nose, and upon falling backwards onto the floor, he'd landed on his elbow and broken it. He was banned from alcohol till his bone healed, and by the time it did Yoru would already be married and out of the way.

"So, which one will it be?"

Yoru looked up to find the patissiere looking expectantly at him and Kei. Having noticed Yoru inhaling the cake with no shame whatsoever, the baker had considerately placed a second plate of samples before Kei, who was tasting them in a much more civil manner than his fiance.

"Not the ones with caramel or mint," Kei declared.

"D'aw, why not?" Yoru asked. "They were magnificent!"

"I hate salted caramel, and chocolate with mint or peanut butter is sacrilege to me."

"Amen to the peanut butter," Yoru agreed. "Then how about this one with dark chocolate and cranberry sauce -"

A little head popped up between the two men. "No, put ketchup!"

Kei and Yoru nearly fell off their stools as a toddler stretched onto his toes in an attempt to reach Kei's plate. "Junta!" Kei exclaimed, scooping the little boy up with one arm. "What are you doing here?"

"Grandma!" declared little Junta, twisting towards Ayako, who had just entered the shop with a curvy young woman in tow.

"Hey, mom. Hi there, Yui," Kei greeted. "I thought we were going to meet up for lunch."

"Well, Akira arrived early, and it was pointless going home just for five minutes. Toru, honey, stop licking the nice young man's plate."

All attention shifted to Junta, who had managed to clamber onto the table and was cleaning Yoru's plate with great gusto while the omega stared helplessly. "Hello, dear," Ayako greeted Yoru. "I believe introductions are in order. This little one is my grandson Junta, Kei's nephew. Yui here is his mother."

Yoru nervously greeted Yui, who was surveying him with a severe expression on her face. "You're not as good looking as I'd thought," she said. "Kei, you've been bluffing over the phone, haven't you?"

"No, I meant every word," Kei retorted, while Yoru shrank away from Yui's hostility. "Don't take your frustrations out on him, please."

"Uncle, uncle!" Junta squealed, oblivious to the sudden tension. "Is this my new aunt?" He asked, pointing at Yoru.

"Don't point, and yes, he will be your aunt soon."

"His hair is so white!"

"It is."

"His eyes are so...pink?"

"They are."

"Where did all the color go?"

Yoru wriggled uncomfortably under the force of multiple stares, feeling like a museum specimen. "Away," Kei responded, his gaze turning thoughtful. "And I'm glad it did."

"Ah! Uncle, Auntie's pink now!"

It took an hour following that little exchange to finally settle on a cake. From there the whole group headed to the Tsunoda residence for a late lunch, Ayako having insisted on Yoru meeting the rest of the family.

For a family leading a relatively small group, the Tsunoda residence was a disproportionately large traditionally built mansion standing on its own grounds. The main building spanned two sides of a lovely, well-maintained garden boasting of a multitude of flowering plants and edged by a row of low trees. A magnificent wisteria grew nestled into the corner where the two wings of the house met, its lovely tresses grazing the ground. A massive cherry tree peeked out from behind the many sloping roofs, and two colossal gingkos stood sentinel at the back corners of the compound. A third wing turned the main complex into a large Z, connected to the rest of the house by a glass-paneled sunroom.

"No, we're not multi-millionaires," Kei remarked upon seeing Yoru gaping at the house, his eyes open almost as wide as his mouth. "Yet."

"How do you clean this behemoth?" Yoru gasped.

Ayako let out a snort of laughter. "That's the first thing that crosses your mind?" she chuckled. "It's old family property. We're still paying off the loan Kei's grandfather took out to renovate it."

"You guys pay off loans?"

"Frank, aren't you? We're not as mafia-like as you'd think. Come in, come in. I know there's someone who's dying to meet you."

*

He certainly did seem to be dying.

An expression that sour could only be caused by leaking stomach acids from a burst stomach slowly eating away his insides. Yoru attempted to smile at the kimono-clad young man seated opposite him, but failed miserably.

"Drop that silly face," Ayako snapped, smacking the man upside the head. "He's not a debtor. He's family."

"Not yet, he isn't," said the man, his voice disturbingly reminiscent of Ito's malignant hiss.

"For heaven's sake," Kei groaned. "The wedding's in a month. I'm sorry about this fool, Yoru. He's my little brother, Akira."

"Um...hello. It is an honor to meet you," Yoru mumbled timidly.

Why does he get the formal greeting at the first meeting while I got atrocious underwear and a skunk? Kei grumbled to himself. "He's argued with Yui again," he explained in a low voice as Ayako argued with Akira in the background. "He's usually a little less of a sourpuss."

"He doesn't seem very happy about this whole wedding thing," Yoru whispered nervously.

"It's just jealousy. His was a shotgun wedding, so it wasn't as grand as ours is going to be."

"It isn't anything against me?"

"Well, I wonder. He should've liked you from the start - he was delighted that you made me walk across town with my junk practically on display."

"It was to give Ito vindictive satisfaction." Yoru shuddered involuntarily and his tender head began to ache again. "Or Hara wouldn't have been the only one dead."

"I'm sorry about that, Yoru. I hadn't imagined it would come to that."

"Apologizing won't bring Hara back. Besides, you have nothing to apologize for. Hara was new - he couldn't have known who you were. He had no reason to stop you."

"What are you two whispering about?" Ayako interrupted. "Save that for later. Ah! Kenichi? Come on in."

A teenager, brown-haired, with monolid eyes and a face glowing with cheer, barreled into the room and pounced on Kei. "Oyassan!" he crowed, throwing his arms around Kei's neck. "You're back!"

"He's the one who was all excited about you," Ayako told Yoru, who head retreated a couple of feet in fright. "This is Kenichi, Kei's foster son."

Kei extricated himself from the oddly excited boy's hold with difficulty. "Hey there, Ken. Settle down, would you?"

Ken turned wide, childlike eyes to Yoru. "Good afternoon," he greeted, clutching the back of Yoru's shirt. "My name is Itou Kenichi. I'm sixteen years old."

He certainly didn't act like he was sixteen. "Good afternoon," he greeted back. "It's nice to meet you, Kenichi. My name is Yoru."

"Are you my new ane-san?"

"I will be, soon."

"Then what are you now?"

"Ken, Yoru here is going to marry your oyassan," Ayako explained. "We talked about it, remember? We even went to get your oyassan a nice new kimono for his wedding."

Kenichi crawled slowly over to Yoru and sat down cross-legged next to him, staring unblinkingly into his eyes. "Are you old?" he asked.

Ah, the white hair. "I'm twenty-four," Yoru answered. "My hair's just white."

"I'm sixteen years old."

"Um. That's nice."

"Say, have you seen my mom? Or my dad?"

Everyone's faces suddenly fell, and Yoru immediately realized that this boy had a tragic past. The innocent question wrenched his heart, and the "no" he'd been about to say died on his lips.

 "Ken, come here," said Kei gently, pulling the boy towards him and tucking him into his side. "Your parents will come on their own one day. I've told you this before."

Kenichi's disappointment and hurt was hard to witness. "And oyassan is keeping me safe until then," he said. "I remember. But when will they come?"

"When they want to, Ken. Now run along and brush Annaisha for me. Go on."

Kenichi nodded and slouched out of the room. "This is ridiculous," Akira growled the moment the door slid shut. "We should just tell him the truth and get it over with."

"Don't be ridiculous," Kei retorted. "I'm not going to put him through that."

"It's cruel to let him keep up this false hope."

"Kenichi was abandoned by his parents when he was six," Ayako explained to Yoru. "They just turned the poor dear out on the streets. He happened to spot Kei while wandering around, and for some reason, he just latched onto him. He's been with us since."

"Is he..." Yoru hesitantly began.

"Yes, he has special needs. Mentally, he's only around five. A couple of years ago he saw a mother asking around about her missing son on TV, and he got it into his head that he'd find his parents if he did that too, just like she found her kid. Since then, he'll approach anyone and everyone and ask if they've seen his parents."

"Have you-"

"Tried talking to them? Yes. They refuse to have anything to do with him. What would forcing them achieve? He's better off with us. He refuses to consider this place home or to call us his family, and it's very hard on us, but we still love him."

Yoru felt a touch of empathy for Kenichi. He himself had grown up unloved by his father - he knew how deeply that kind of rejection hurt. "People can be so heartless," was all he could say without breaking down.

Lunch was a noisy affair. Tsunoda senior joined them at the table, and Yoru quickly learned that Akira had inherited his tacit and severe manner, while Kei took after the much more genial Ayako. Kenichi had more or less recovered from his earlier sadness, and seemed to be quite taken by Yoru, as was Junta, for that matter. The two of them planted themselves on either side of Yoru and entertained themselves by saying things and watching Yoru turn various shades of red. Akira had a second child too, a shy five-year-old named Mira, who stuck to her mother's side and kept shooting jealous glances at her brother.

Yoru took a moment to sit back and look around at the people assembled at the table, eating and laughing and bickering in a beautiful, homely dining room. Soon, I can have all of this too, Yoru thought, smiling to himself. I guess I'll be happier here than I thought.

A piercing stare made the back of his neck prickle. Yoru looked around to find Akira fixing him with a sharp stare, corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. The moment their eyes met, he scowled and looked away.

Ayako wasn't quite ready to let Yoru go home after lunch. Kei happened to be a phenomenal pianist, and upon her insistence, he treated the family to a mini-concert on the grand piano. Yoru was given a place of honor on the bench next to Kei, and Ayako had great fun taking a million pictures of the human-sized fire hydrants seated before the instrument.

"You own a Bechstein," Yoru said, "but you're not a millionaire?"

"Nope!" Kei replied jovially, playing a few experimental notes. "I'll tell you the full story some other day, but this was given to me to repay a debt."

"You shitty yakuza."

Kei softly touched Yoru's engagement ring. "You mean your shitty yakuza."

Holy mother of God. "No return policy?" he mumbled, trying his hardest not to melt into a puddle.

"There's no receipt, so no. Any requests?"

Ayako was right - Kei was unbelievably good. His whole body seemed to dance as he played. No, it wasn't playing: his fingers seemed only to drift over the keys, and the piano sang.

Yoru understood now why Ayako had made him sit next to Kei. At the piano, Kei wasn't an oyabun. He wasn't yakuza. He was just a simple man who loved and was loved like any other, a strong man who was vulnerable like any other.

This was the real Kei, hidden behind his walls like any other.

Yoru was so lost in the music that it took him a few seconds to collect himself once the song had ended. "That was beautiful," he said. "You could be a professional."

Kei twitched, and his responding smile was touched with bitterness. "I'm glad you liked it."

Still a little overwhelmed, Yoru excused himself and hid in the bathroom. But the tumultuous events of the day were not yet done - when he emerged, Akira was waiting to corner him. "E-excuse me," Yoru said timidly, trying to sidestep him.

"Do you have any idea what you're getting into?" Akira asked him.

Yoru froze. "I don't understand."

"You don't seem to realize what marrying into the mafia means. I guess my dear brother did not tell you how you'll be shunned by everyone you held dear, or how some people won't let you set foot in their establishments. Or how people will whisper and shrink away from you on the streets if they recognize you."

Yoru stepped back. "P-Please stop," he stammered.

"You'll be giving up your whole world, and you'll be stuck inside this criminal-filled hole forever. Even if you get a divorce, your association with the mafia will never go away."

"I don't want to hear it!" Yoru cried, clenching his fists. Of course he knew all of this. These were his deepest fears, fears he'd been hoping to keep buried until it was too late to turn back.

"You need to hear it," Akira pressed mercilessly, bearing down on the smaller man. "Maybe it's the stupid romanticism people have created about the yakuza. Maybe it's all the money. But if you know what's good for you, you will walk away from this marriage. Because whatever his qualities may be, my brother cannot make you happy."

"Hold it right there." Yoru suddenly flared up, a fierce light glinting in his eyes. "You're right about a lot of things. I did agree to this marriage without thinking too much. I indeed am giving up any chance for a "normal" life. But I'm a grown man - I'm not so stupid as to marry a mafia boss for money or thrill. This isn't an airport paperback romance."

Akira scowled at the jibe, but Yoru did not let him speak. "I might not know the yakuza world," the omega continued, "but you don't know the world outside the yakuza either. You weren't born in it. It isn't better than yours. The only difference is that people sell their souls to the devil through a different vendor. All it's given me is prejudice and pain. So that world can go fuck itself - I don't want it."