The Passing of Cherry Blossoms

[madimpossibledreamer]

I kind of hate the accuracy of last night's title.  She was good people.  Rest in peace.  I mean, I half wrote it because I had a feeling, but.
more things need to write xander, au or not, as comfortador.

Cast of Characters (listed the Japanese way of surname first, in order of appearance/mention): Miyamoto Suna (Xander), Matriarch of the Miyamoto-gumi, a Direct Family of the Amaya-kai
Akiyama Yoko (Willow), Matriarch of the Akiyama-gumi, a Direct Family of the Amaya-kai
Natsukawa Renyo (Buffy), Chairwoman of the Amaya-kai
Kumai Atae (Jesse), former Matriarch of the Kumai-gumi, a Direct Family of the Amaya-kai
Amaya-kai-the Yakuza Clan they're all a part of
Author's Notes: In this universe, Japan is run by the women. The Yakuza don't have a monopoly on magic, but they do have a lot of it and there are rules about how it's used.  Traditional/old-fashioned kimonos tend to come in multiple layers (traditionally twelve).  Given the way Akiyama|Willow is addressing Miyamoto Suna|Xander in her head vs out loud, she's definitely being more informal in her head, mostly because there's still some amount of 'we haven't been close in years how do we friendship again'.
Terms: A tiny bit of Miyamoto's slangy Kansai-ben returns.
Aneki-older yakuza or one that's been with them longer, and thus a superior
yubitsume-yakuza practice of cutting off parts or the whole finger as penance, can be demanded by a superior
More author's notes: background notes
Fixes itself and the previous one more in the timeline, because Buffy died and got better.

Main Points:
Buffy/Yakuza AU (Bloody Petals)
Chapter Summary: This time, when Akiyama gets more news, she's not alone.
Word Count: 755
Rating: Teen
Warning: real world discussion of death/dying

 

        Unsurprisingly, Miyamoto practically teleports to her side when she hears the news.  Right from Akiyama, because she’s not that careless.  Honestly, it wouldn’t be a shock to hear that she’s misused one of her gals’ spellcraft capabilities just to get here faster.  Surprisingly, for once, she turns down the offer for a spar.
        “Yer hurtin’ right now, y’don’t need m’ help with that,” she waves it off.
        It’s interesting, the difference between their subordinates.  Yoko’s read that, for some people, it’s impossible to tell whether it’s love or fear.  For the Miyamoto-gumi, Yoko suspects they’re exactly the same thing.  It’s equally likely Suna-chan ordered one of them, playing idly with her knife, to grab a bunch of Yoko’s favorite snacks, or they volunteered instantly.  Meanwhile, the Akiyama-gumi respect her, but they’d gossip behind her back.  They intimidate the Miyamoto-gumi, but it’s the Akiyama-gumi that are frightened of the Matriarch, Miyamoto, perhaps even more than their own.  (Akiyama suspects it’s the unpredictability that gets them.)
        Somehow, they end up watching a Bollywood film again, but it’s more background noise than anything.  They’ve both given up trying to follow the plot.  That’s when her phone rings, and she excuses herself, the picture of calm on the outside.  Inside, she’s as scared as she was back when they were still in school, a scared little rabbit.  She’s faced many scarier things since then—those hours not sure if Suna-chan would pull through after being stabbed in the eye, for instance, or the inciting incident, where Renyo-chan had been stabbed and ended up in the hospital, no matter how much she tried to downplay the whole affair, or even the time that Renyo-chan had been dead.  She’s had to grovel to aneki, endured cigarette burns and lashes to the soul, had threats of yubitsume.  Still, somehow, this puts her right back into that mindset, and only taking refuge in the formal manner of a Captain helps.
        Suna-chan glances up, the picture of lazy lounging, but her eye easily gives that away for the lie it is.  It’s sharp, bright, and for one instant Akiyama has a feeling of kinship to Kumai the traitor, because even without the intensification of two eyes, that single eye still sees too much.  Strips away every kimono layer she wears to protect her heart and sees the vulnerability for what it is.  “Ya want me t’pause the flick?” she drawls in the most obnoxious Kansai-ben she can muster, and with that, the sense of the world tilting shifts back to normal like nothing ever happened.
        “No, it’s all right.  This shouldn’t take long.”  With a small smile and wave, she goes to take the call.
        She knows the content of the conversation before she picks up.  It’s hard to tell if it’s instinct or something more esoteric.  Still, it helps, because without a script, she’s not sure she’d know what to say.
        Suna-chan knows, too, the instant she comes back.  She had been playing with the knife in a gesture Yoko knows to be nervousness, but she stills at her entrance.
        Yoko collapses on the couch, nudging into one of the wonderful hugs that Suna-chan really should patent.  “Dad really wants me to come to the funeral, but a lot of them are like Mom—like Mom was.  They’re not going to want some criminal in their midst.”
        Suna-chan smiles the smile of a hyena.  “If I came as your plus one, we could really give them a heart attack.”  She’s dropped the Kansai-ben entirely, and it’s always such a strange experience, these days, to hear her speak in her normal dialect.
        Yoko giggles, even as she shakes her head.  “I don’t think so, Miyamoto-chan, but thank you.”
        Suna-chan acts affronted.  “What?  That way, if anyone talked shit about you, I could always stab them.”  She calls the tantou back into being, twirling it around her fingers like  a toy.  Yoko is tempted to tell her that if she somehow manages to lose a couple showing off, she’s on her own getting to, and more importantly, explaining to, the Healer’s.
        Instead, she simply disagrees.  “That’s not a good idea.”
        From her space practically tucked into Suna-chan’s shoulder, Yoko feels more than sees the Miyamoto Matriarch shrug.  “What, they’re already buryin’ one.  What’s a couple more?”
        “You’re the worst,” Yoko giggles harder.
        “Proud of it.”  And her oldest friend starts massaging her forehead, and for the first time since this all started, no matter how temporary, Yoko starts to feel some small semblance of peace.