The Nakahara mansion stood as a fortress in the heart of Caropiah, its towering walls and high gates designed to keep the enemies of the Inner Force at bay. Inside, the halls were equally imposing, filled with lavish decor that reflected the wealth and power of the family. Yet to Kikidori, it all felt cold, empty—a reminder of the expectations he carried as the prince of this infamous mafia empire.
As the sun set, casting long, golden beams through the massive windows, Kikidori wandered aimlessly through the mansion. The quiet was unusual, and it unsettled him. Usually, the halls were alive with the murmur of his father's men, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter or argument. But today was different. His father was out on business, and most of the mansion staff were either busy or gone for the day.
Kikidori's mind was a whirlwind of irritation. Ere'ana's smug face still haunted him from earlier, her words replaying like a broken record. He hated how easily she got under his skin, how she made his blood boil with just a flick or a smirk.
"Fucking four-eyes," he muttered under his breath as he stalked down the hallway.
He turned a corner and stopped in his tracks. There, in the spacious sitting room near the west wing of the mansion, was his little sister, Yumi. At only eight years old, she was the light of the Nakahara family—or at least, she was supposed to be. But in a house ruled by violence and shadows, even Yumi often seemed isolated, left to entertain herself while the adults handled "business."
She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by crayons and papers. Her dark hair was pulled into uneven pigtails—clearly her own handiwork—and she was scribbling intently on a piece of paper. Kikidori leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a moment.
"Yumi," he said, his voice softer than usual.
She looked up, startled, but her face lit up when she saw him. "Kiki! You're back!"
"Yeah," he said, stepping into the room. "What are you doing?"
"Drawing," she replied simply, holding up her paper. The picture was messy but colorful, a chaotic mix of flowers, trees, and what he assumed were people.
"Looks... good," Kikidori said, though he wasn't sure what he was looking at.
Yumi pouted. "You didn't even look at it properly!"
"Alright, let me see," he said, crouching down next to her. He uncharacteristically sat on the floor, crossing his legs as he took the paper from her. Up close, he could make out what she was going for. There was a small figure with black hair and a leather jacket—clearly meant to be him—standing under a tree. Next to him was a smaller figure with pigtails, holding his hand.
"This is me?" Kikidori asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh-huh!" Yumi nodded enthusiastically. "And that's me! We're at the park."
Kikidori chuckled softly, handing the drawing back to her. "You've got some imagination, kid."
"You don't like it?" Yumi's face fell slightly.
"No, it's good," he said quickly, ruffling her hair. "I like it. You did a good job."
Her smile returned, and she went back to her crayons, humming softly to herself. Kikidori stayed where he was, watching her as she worked. It wasn't often that he let himself relax like this, especially not in the mansion. But something about Yumi's innocence made him feel... calmer.
"You know," Yumi said after a moment, not looking up from her drawing, "you should smile more, Kiki."
"What?" Kikidori frowned.
"You're always so grumpy," she said matter-of-factly. "Daddy says it's because you're stressed. Are you stressed?"
Kikidori snorted. "Yeah, something like that."
"Maybe you need a friend," Yumi suggested, picking up a blue crayon.
"I've got friends," he said, though he wasn't sure Masa and the others really counted.
"Someone who makes you happy," Yumi clarified. "Not just someone who makes jokes."
Kikidori leaned back on his hands, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, well, those kinds of people don't just show up, Yumi. Life doesn't work like that."
Yumi glanced at him, her big brown eyes filled with curiosity. "Maybe you're just not looking in the right places."
Kikidori didn't respond, but her words stuck with him. He thought of Ere'ana—her irritating smirk, her sharp tongue, the way she never backed down from a fight. She didn't make him happy, that was for damn sure, but she made him feel *something*. He didn't know what to do with that, and it pissed him off.
"You're weird, Yumi," he said finally, breaking the silence.
She giggled. "You're weird too, Kiki."
For a while, they sat in companionable silence, Yumi scribbling away while Kikidori watched. He didn't realize how much time had passed until the shadows in the room grew long and dark.
"Alright, squirt," he said, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Time to clean up. Dinner's soon."
"Okay," Yumi said, gathering her crayons and papers. "Will you sit with me at dinner?"
Kikidori hesitated. Usually, he ate quickly and alone, avoiding the formalities of family meals. But looking at Yumi's hopeful face, he found himself nodding.
"Yeah, sure," he said.
Her grin was so wide it made his chest ache.
As he left the room, Kikidori couldn't help but feel a strange sense of peace. In a world full of chaos and violence, Yumi was the one thing that still felt pure. And for her, he'd do anything—even if it meant sitting down for a family dinner.
The End of Chapter 4