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452 – Love Beneath the Cherry Blossoms
🕑 Added 2025-08-15 15:00:19 +0000 UTCOutside the gates of the Yamazakura Group, Kisaki swept his gaze over the people around him and felt nothing but disappointment.
The so-called “Demon Bomb Duo” from Kanagawa were veterans of the streets, sure—but expecting any real brainpower from them was pure wishful thinking.
The “Three Tigers” trio had a member like Kuroda, the son of a successful businessman, yet they had somehow been assimilated into complete idiocy.
Judging from the look on Kuroda’s face, he seemed about two seconds away from hopping on his brand-new motorcycle and ramming it straight through the gate.
As if this were still the old days—when you could just bust open an enemy’s door. This was a reinforced metal gate.
Even if you slammed into it with an armored vehicle, it’d be a mutual disaster.
The Osaka Prefectural Police would probably have to bring in heavy weaponry just to breach it.
Even those few who had spent some time working in a company after graduation—people who had more or less learned to function like normal office employees—had reverted to brainless delinquents after being back with the Rampaging Angels for only a few dozen minutes.
Kisaki let out a pained sigh, stepped forward, and called toward the crack in the gate:
“Is the Group Leader here?”
His tone was polite, his smile warm… but with those sharp facial features, he still didn’t look like someone you could trust.
Behind the gate, Doma took one look at him and instantly decided he didn’t want to talk.
And seriously—who just lets some stranger waltz up and speak directly to the boss? What about his dignity?
So he gave a signal to Nakamura beside him, telling him to speak instead.
“Bastards! Who the hell are you people? If you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops!”
Nakamura’s tongue-twisting, roundabout way of shouting was so classically yakuza that Kisaki almost choked from holding in laughter.
Who were these people, showing up in the middle of the night to trouble the gentle, honest, upright Yamazakura Group?
That was the question not only the pajama-clad, burly men inside wanted answered, but also a group of card-game enthusiasts in a certain online chatroom.
After Hataro posted another photo, someone finally recognized the so-called “Rampaging Angel” he kept complaining about.
———————————————————————
“No way!? That’s the Rampaging Angels! What are they doing in Katsushika Ward?”
“Yeah, I recognize them—the one in the lead is their strategist, Demon Fox, and behind him is the Idiot Duo and the Moron Trio.”
“…You’re right. But don’t they have class tomorrow? What are they doing out so late?” — Mud Cat
“You say that like you don’t have work tomorrow yourself. Just wing it, it’s fine.”
“…Fair point.” — Mud Cat
———————————————————————
Back at the gate, the Yamazakura members had also learned from Kisaki who he was and what he wanted.
“You want to strip our cherry trees bare? Are you kidding me?!”
“Looking for a fight, bastard?!”
The Yamazakura uncles roared in fury.
This was even worse than shaving all their heads—after all, most of them didn’t have much hair to begin with.
Listening to the angry shouts of his men, Doma quickly weighed whether Kisaki’s words were true or not.
Gathering so many people in the middle of the night just to “pick flowers” sounded absurd, but Rampaging riders were hardly known for normal thinking.
Still, it could be a trick—if he opened the gate, they might claim the cherry blossoms weren’t vivid enough, say it was due to poor nutrition, and then chop off his fingers to bury them as “fertilizer.”
Either scenario was possible. So…
“Ahem. Sorry, but this tree has a very special meaning to me personally. I must ask you all to leave.”
As the leader, he didn’t unleash his “Eight-Bag Elder-Class Tongue Technique.”
It wasn’t that he couldn’t—he simply felt that, as an adult, there was no need to stoop to the level of these outside kids.
Children were the future, after all. Even yakuza had an obligation to protect them.
Of course, if there hadn’t been so many people out there, he might have taken the time to lecture them about not disturbing others at night.
But this many? No chance.
“I see… I can understand that. Anyone could, just by looking at those beautiful petals. If you didn’t have a deep attachment to this Yamazakura tree, you’d never have cared for it so well,” Kisaki said with a sigh.
“I’m glad you understand,” Doma replied, his voice heavy with years of hardship. Anyone could hear how important that tree was to him.
“You hear that? Coming to someone’s home to demand their group crest—that’s one of the lowest crimes there is!”
“Even if I have to fight to my last drop of blood, I will never let this cherry tree be taken!”
“That’s right! That’s the spirit of the Yamazakura Group!”
Seeing that the punks outside were actually being reasonable, the group’s morale surged, and they made sure to loudly display their “senior pride.”
Idiots. Our real “spirit” is that pachinko parlor on Mizukawa Street and the two soapland bathhouses.
Though Doma cursed them inwardly, he was still satisfied with their performance.
“What’s so special about one cherry tree? Give me the petals tonight, and I’ll buy you a hundred trees tomorrow!” Kuroda Kaito stepped forward, shouting.
“That’s right—any variety you want!”
‘Spoiled rich brats… are all Rampaging this loaded?’
Doma’s beefy, scar-covered face twitched, turning darker.
In another situation, he might have agreed—a hundred cherry trees, even sold for cash, was no small sum.
But if he gave in here, it would mean the group could be trampled on at will, with no pride, no backbone.
He saw his cowardly underlings about to spout more threats and quickly raised a hand to stop them.
His expression shifted a few times before he forced a smile, cleared his throat, and said:
“It’s been years since I’ve told anyone this story.”
It was hard to imagine such a gruff, violent yakuza boss speaking in a voice so deep and weathered.
Even before hearing it, you could believe the story would be moving.
Outside, Gorou and Onizuka pricked up their ears. Inside, Kamimura, the group’s young head, looked bewildered—he had never heard any story about this tree.
Wasn’t it named “Yamazakura” just because the boss couldn’t think of anything better?
He’d even considered changing the name after people teased it sounded too soft.
“When I was young, I was frail. I spent years unable to leave my bed.”
Doma’s words made every member of the Yamazakura Group widen their eyes.
Looking at their hulking, drum-shaped boss, they simply couldn’t imagine him bedridden.
‘The mismatch is too much! Swap in a beautiful young girl and maybe it’d work!’
Gorou and Onizuka, however, nodded quietly.
This had to be some kind of inspirational story.
While other cherry trees bloomed together, this Yamazakura remained still, enduring people’s ridicule.
But when the others had all withered, the Yamazakura began to bloom in breathtaking beauty.
A scene like that could indeed become an unforgettable memory—one that could encourage someone for life.
At that time, I couldn’t even interact with other people,” Doma said in a low, heavy voice, fully immersing himself in the story. “Aside from mealtimes, all I could do was lie in bed and stare into space.”
“Back then, your room’s window was facing the Yamazakura tree, right, Group Leader Tsuchimura?!” Gorou blurted out eagerly.
‘You little punk—who’s Tsuchimura? I’m Doma! Doma!’
Suppressing his irritation, Doma sighed sentimentally.
“That’s right. I lay in bed every day—”
“Yeah! I guessed right!” x2
Cheers and high-fives erupted from outside, darkening Doma’s face even further.
“I lay there every day, looking at the lively cherry blossoms, and in my heart—”
“—you were filled with hope, right?!” Onizuka interrupted impatiently.
‘Bastards! This isn’t a comedy routine! What the hell are you people even here for?!’
Grinding his teeth, Doma sped up his delivery.
“—and in my heart, I was filled with resentment! Why could the tree bloom so beautifully while I was stuck in bed, unable to move?!”
“Uh…”
The disappointed sounds from outside brought a flicker of satisfaction to him, but he pressed on.
“But then one day, things changed. New neighbors moved in next door. While I lay upstairs, I heard my parents and older brother happily chatting with them downstairs… and all I could think was: ‘Might as well die.’”
“Yeah, that does sound miserable.”
“Better off dead, really.”
Two sympathetic voices came at once.
‘Damn brats—what is this, a manzai act now? You trying to be my comedic partners?!’
Seriously, kids this age were the most infuriating.
Still, Doma restrained his urge to explode.
He was a man of refinement—well, refined for a yakuza.
Even if you added up all the manners of the hundred-plus delinquents outside, they wouldn’t equal his.
Of course, their spit could probably drown him.
“I mustered all my strength and rolled off the bed—”
“That must’ve hurt.”
“Maybe you knocked yourself out.”
“…Then I dragged myself to the window—”
“With that body, could you even climb up?”
“You wouldn’t die from falling out the second floor, right?”
One quipped, two echoed, and soon both the Rampaging Angels outside and the Yamazakura members inside were hanging on his every word.
Applause even broke out—though only from the Rampaging Angels.
The Yamazakura members didn’t dare, but silently applauded in their hearts.
After all these years, they’d never realized their boss was such a natural at manzai.
A vein throbbed at Doma’s temple, but he forced himself to keep that dramatic, resonant voice going.
“When I grabbed the window sill and pulled myself up, I stuck my head out—and saw something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life…”
“Your parents, your brother, and the neighbors having a picnic under the cherry tree?”
“Eating premium sushi?”
“Maybe shabu-shabu!”
“No, sukiyaki would pair best with cherry blossoms!”
“Gotta use Uzawa’s finest beef!”
“….”
It was the dead of night, and after all their running around, everyone was starving.
The moment food got mentioned, the air turned lively. If this were a comedy show, the straight man would’ve been showered in praise.
But right now, Doma just wanted to draw his blade and cut down the two punks outside.
Fortunately, even though he’d dropped out of junior high, he could still count—well enough to know that if he lost his temper, he’d be the one ending up dead.
His only option was to move these idiots to tears so they’d leave faster.
“When I looked up, nestled among the cherry blossoms was a girl—a girl in a blue, floral-patterned white dress, with long braids. She was sitting on a branch, holding a rice ball, with a single grain of rice stuck at the corner of her mouth.”
“When she noticed me, she almost fell from surprise. She glared at me in anger, but I couldn’t help smiling. I pointed at my own mouth, and she stuck out her tongue to lick the rice grain into her mouth.”
As he spoke, Doma kept his ears tuned to the outside.
When he noticed the chatter quiet down, he smirked and began to raise his tone.
“She had a name as beautiful as something from the Edo River—Shizuka. She was the daughter of the new neighbors, the same age as me.
From that day on, after school, she would climb the cherry tree to chat with me. I would talk about the books I read when I was bored, and she would—”
“Wait, Boss, you’ve read books? Didn’t you drop out before junior high?” Nakamura asked in disbelief.
Doma said nothing, but Kamimura clamped a hand over Nakamura’s mouth.
“…Miraculously, with her company, I slowly recovered. I thought we could go to school together, eat lunch under the cherry tree… but she fell ill and passed away.
“This cherry tree brought me pain, yes—but it also gave me back the youth I’d been missing. And in the end, it left me with a wound that will never heal.
“No matter what, this cherry tree is all I have left now.”
Doma let out a couple of light laughs, tinged with resignation.
“Shameful, isn’t it? After all these years, I still can’t let go. Forgive me for making you laugh.”
At the end, there was a faint, nasal catch in his voice.
Casting a subtle glance at his men, he saw that even these guys, who knew him inside and out, wore heavy, conflicted expressions.
Satisfied, he nodded to himself. If even they were caught up in the story, then those two idiots outside had to be on the verge of tears.
“Waaahhh—”
Sure enough, sobs like those of a crow at midnight rang out. Though… they were awfully ugly sobs.
“Why… why does even someone like you get to have such a beautiful memory?! You bastard!” Gorou cried, face streaming with tears and snot.
‘Why did he have to fall in love with his best friend in drag?!’
‘…Huh??’
Doma’s eyes widened.
“That’s right! Unforgivable! Absolutely unforgivable!” Eikichi Onizuka bawled even harder.
‘Die, die, die—why does a yakuza get to have such a lovely youth?!’
‘…Huh??’ Doma’s jaw dropped.
“Strategist, let’s just set the place on fire.”
Ryozo Sanada snapped open his lighter, his assassin-like face turning even more sinister.
“No. That would burn down the cherry tree,” Kisaki said flatly.
“Hey, hey—wait a second! Do you people even have a heart? Are you all cold-blooded animals?!” Doma shouted in disbelief.
Was this really how normal people reacted? After hearing such a touching story, you actually want to burn me alive?
Shouldn’t you be thinking about helping me protect this pure and beautiful love instead? Are you even human?!
“Hmph, I’ve decided. Forget just the petals—we’re digging up the entire cherry blossom tree,” Kuroda declared fiercely.
Why should this yakuza thug get to have such a beautiful youth, while he himself was forced into crossdressing by his sister… and then fell for by his own best friend?
Damn it all!
Inside the room, Doma’s expression was already beyond control.
He stared blankly at the furious shouts outside, questioning his very existence.
Sure, he’d always said these delinquents weren’t right in the head, but he never imagined they were this far gone.
Unfortunately for him, being far away from Bunkyō Ward meant he didn’t know that Kyousuke and his gang were famous in the outside world for one thing: being completely out of their minds.
Kisaki turned, sweeping his gaze across the crowd.
Seeing their burning enthusiasm, his heart settled—morale was at its peak.
Poor Doma… Not only had his painstakingly crafted story failed to drive the enemy away without a fight, it had actually fired them up even more.
“Well then…”
Kisaki planted his feet wide, chest out and head high.
“In the name of the Rampaging Angels—break through the Yamazakura Group and present the cherry blossom to our Boss!”
“OOOHHH!!!”
With a roar, the members of the Rampaging Angels completely abandoned any pretense of keeping quiet.
“W-wait! I still have—”
Hearing they were about to attack, Doma frantically shouted.
“Leader Doman, we fully understand your resolve now. Rest assured—we’ll fight with all our strength, carrying our respect for you in our hearts!”
Kisaki let out a cold, sinister laugh.
His anger was no less than that of Hata Gorō and the others.
After all, in the Rampaging Angels, who didn’t cry for three days and nights when talking about love? And when it came to tragic romance, Kisaki would never admit defeat.
“That’s more like it! Come at us—I’ll protect the boss’s love myself!” The previously dragged-away Nakamura popped back out, eyes brimming with tears.
“That’s right! With me here, we’re invincible! It’s time to repay the boss!”
“Forgive me, boss… I used to complain that our group name sounded too girly. I never imagined there was such a romantic story behind it. Rest assured, I’ll never let this cherry tree—the very spirit of the Yamazakura Group—be taken away!”
Doma now wore that exact face—mouth wide open, completely speechless.
He suddenly felt like he didn’t recognize his own men anymore.
Since when had they been like this? Whose subordinates were they, exactly?
This story of his… maybe it had worked a little too well.
