Page 3 of The Oyabun's Boy

When I opened my eyes, the orchid was reflected in the window, white and perfect and infuriating. I brushed past it, nearly knocking the vase to the floor. I didn’t care. I needed to find him. I needed to know if the world could actually contain something that bright, or if I’d hallucinated the whole fucking thing.

Down on the street, the puddles stilled and the wind shifted. A single strand of auburn hair, caught on a street sign, twisted in the new current. I watched it until it dissolved into darkness.

Then I made the call.

The boy was gone, as if the rain itself had swallowed him whole. I stared at the sidewalk, at the empty echo of his motion, and felt my hand curl into a fist before I realized it.

The glass flexed beneath my knuckles, sharp pain blooming in the joints, but I didn’t pull back. The urge to break something—someone—swelled in me with a heat I hadn’t felt in years.

I forced my hand open, slow, deliberate. The skin across my knuckles was white, almost bloodless. I pressed the intercom button set into the edge of the window frame.

“Chen. Now.”

A flicker on the security feeds told me he was already outside the door. He entered with his usual precision, black suit crisp,eyes expressionless. He bowed at the threshold, but didn’t cross the mats. Good. I didn’t want anyone else in the tea room with the memory of that laughter still hanging in the air.

“Report,” I said.

He kept his gaze slightly lowered. “No security issues. There was an attempted trespass in the alley behind the noodle house, but it was handled. Your car is ready for tomorrow’s meeting with the Borelli family. The port schedule is clear. No other anomalies.”

I watched the rain bead and run down the glass, hundreds of tiny rivers, all converging toward the ledge.

“There was a man outside just now. Dancing in the street.”

Chen’s eyebrow twitched, barely. “A man,Oyabun?”

“Young,” I said. “Auburn hair, green eyes. Freckles.” I licked my teeth, irritated at the detail, at the way it tasted in my mouth. “He was…remarkable. Find out everything.”

Chen took a breath. “Do you want him brought—”

“No.” The word came out a snarl. I tamed it, but the aftertaste lingered. “Not yet. Discreetly. I want information, not chaos.”

He bowed again, deeper this time. “Of course.”

I could tell he was curious—Chen rarely blinked at my orders, but this one unsettled him. That pleased me, a little. It meant my instincts hadn’t gone soft.

“Start with the bodega at the corner,” I said. “Cross-reference with the city’s street cameras for the last twenty-four hours. I want to know his name, his address, what he eats, who he fucks, and if anyone would miss him if he disappeared.”

Chen nodded, already halfway to the door.

“Wait.” I let my palm rest against the cool glass, tracing a rivulet where the boy’s face had been, seconds ago. “Do not approach him. Do not make contact. If he notices you, you will not survive it.”

Chen hesitated, then said, “Understood.”

He left, silent as always. The room closed around me again, smaller, the air thick with ozone and old grief.

I watched the monitors, waiting for the world to give me a sign. On one of the feeds, a deliveryman biked through the storm, face hidden by a hood. On another, a drunk staggered into a puddle and nearly drowned in two inches of water.

The city pulsed, oblivious, but I saw the fault line now, the crack in the world. I wondered if Chen would sense it too, if he’d come back with a file or a corpse.

My own reflection flickered in the window, superimposed over the street. My jaw was set, eyes bright with something hungry and unfamiliar. I liked it. I hated it.

I pressed my forehead to the glass. For the first time in years, I felt a desire so sharp it threatened to unmake me. I wanted to own that freedom, to break it down and see if it would beg. I wanted to be the only thing that made him laugh like that again.

Outside, the rain began to slow. The streetlamps flickered on, illuminating the river of water, the empty concrete, the place where he’d been.

I waited, counting the seconds, knowing the next move was mine.

Soon, I thought. Very soon.