The Rabbit's Liver

Long ago, the Dragon King, who lives under the Southern Sea, was very sick. His doctors told him that the only thing that would cure his illness was the liver of a rabbit.

Naomi Ayase’s mother died in the fall of her second year in middle school.

If you had asked her anything about the aftermath, the details of that whole affair, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. By the time the fog of grief had dissipated enough for her to gain consciousness, she was still here in the Mochizuki estate, haunting its halls like a ghost that had just awakened after months of being a poltergeist.

Throughout all of it, Ryuji Mochizuki, her stepfather, had loomed around her like a constant shadow. Even after the accident, the recovery, the wake and the shrine visits, the broad presence of the man never disappeared.

Naomi would say she was surprised that he still kept her, but she would be lying.

Ryuji, much like his namesake, covets whatever he desires and hoards it with jealous fervor. Including the daughter he inherited from his short marriage to Naoko Ayase.

The girl looked out the window of the traditional Japanese room. It was autumn again. The leaves of the maple trees had turned a beautiful mix of yellows and reds. Naomi rested her cheek on her hand as she stared, finding the view far more interesting than the droning voice of the tutor sitting in front of her.

Miss Ushi, the head maid, frowned at her as she brought in green tea and yokan. Naomi noticed Miss Ushi subtly trying to signal that ignoring the tutor was rude and unbecoming of a Mochizuki, but she ignored the woman to pout at the snack selection instead. She didn’t like yokan. The particular treat was provided for her stuck up literature tutor, who was still droning on about themes or whatever. Naomi absentmindedly grabbed the intricate porcelain cup, hardly registering the bitter taste of the green tea as she kept staring at the falling leaves.

It was then, when a familiar chestnut-brown bird landed on the branch of one of the maple trees, that it hit her.

…I’ve been staring at this same view for months.

Such a simple observation managed to bring clarity to her mind. Naomi blinked slowly, becoming more aware of the tutor’s grating voice, now accompanied by the occasional sip and chew.

“One interesting thing about this section is—”

“Can we pause the lesson for today?” She mumbled a bit too quickly. “I don’t feel well.”

Before, the tutor would have scowled and reprimanded her for thinking she could weasel out of her lesson and waste his time—maybe even tattled to the staff. Now he just offered a tight smile. “Of course. Please inform me when you feel better. And give my regards to Ryuji-sama.”

Naomi still had the sense to bow before leaving, sneaking away from the sight of the maids and Miss Ushi to reach the garden.

Her sandals tapped lightly on the stone paths. Her kimono—intricate, stifling, and extremely expensive—hardly let her walk as freely as she wished. The sounds of occasional birds, rustling leaves, and the rhythmic tunk of the shishi-odoshi made her muscles relax and her mind clearer. Her mother had loved this garden, and Naomi never understood why until she lost her. She’d found it boring before, always wondering why her mom took routine walks here.

After a while, Naomi grew tired of walking in her sandals and stopped by the small pond. She sat on the edge of it and carefully removed her sandals before setting down properly.

“I need an escape plan, don’t I?”

The thought wasn’t completely out of left field. Naomi had found the idea of being part of the Yakuza lifestyle insane when it was first forced on her through her mother’s marriage. She hadn’t protested because she wanted her mom to be happy, and had always assumed she’d only deal with it for a few years until college. Where she planned to study abroad and have minimal contact with that whole mess.

But then her mom died.

Now she had even less reason to stay, didn’t she? She didn’t necessarily hate the Mochizuki. The clan members and staff had been more than accommodating and kind to her. She was also pretty sure Ryuji had shielded her and her mom from the worst of that life.

And yet, wasn’t it completely normal not to want any part of a famous, centuries-old criminal organization?

Like, what the fuck, what kind of life had she been dealt?

The girl took one of the redder maple leaves and twirled it a few times before throwing it onto the pond’s surface, startling several koi into darting away.

Taking a deep breath, she considered her options.

Running away definitely wasn’t one, for several reasons. She didn’t have enough money or experience to survive on her own yet, nor was she legally able to. She’d gotten some meager inheritance from her mother, but she hadn’t cared about that while the wound was still fresh. Something to investigate with Takemura, the clan’s lawyer. Naomi made a mental note to corner him for a conversation the next time he visited the estate.

Her best bet is probably…leave to the States as soon as she graduated high school. Easier said than done when she was currently stuck being homeschooled…

When her mom married Ryuji, he insisted on homeschooling for Naomi, citing the dangers of continuing to go to school (much less a public one) and claiming that tutoring was the better options because the teachers he had in mind were sooooo much better. Her mom had refused and been very adamant about Naomi continuing to go to the same school she used to with minimal interference. That obviously changed after…everything. Her whole life went on lockdown in several ways, and she’d been exclusively tutored a few weeks after the funeral. Not that she would have been fit to go back to school, but she knew Ryuji enough to recognize that he’d used the opportunity to get his way, underhanded though it’s been, he was still a shrewd Yakuza.

It’s been a year of that. A year where she’d been taught, yes, but officially she was still going to be a year older than her classmates in the same grade.

Okay, now I need to convince him that I’m ready to go back to school, she thought with miserable realization.

She couldn’t afford to stay homeschooled for several reasons. The main one being that it would definitely affect her college admissions abroad and severely impact her chances of getting a scholarship, which she needed if she had any hope of leaving the Yakuza life behind.

“There you are.”

Naomi’s head snapped up at the familiar deep voice. Ryuji approached along the stone path, his tailored, expensive suit somehow looking perfectly pressed despite the autumn breeze. The large scar that trailed on the bridge to hid cheek seemed to soften somehow in the warm afternoon glow, the pale, jagged line that carved its way from near the bridge of his nose down across his left cheek like an old lightning strike. The scar formed an irregular, ridge against his skin - not quite straight, but following the natural contours of his face where some blade had once found (missed?) its mark

Even in the garden, he commanded presence—tall, broad-shouldered, with graying temples that only made him look more distinguished.

“Miss Ushi mentioned you weren’t feeling well,” he said, settling beside her on the pond’s edge with surprising grace for such a large man. “The tutor was concerned.”

Concerned he’d lose his paycheck, Naomi thought, or his head, but nodded. “Just tired. Sorry for cutting the lesson short.”

“No need to apologize.” His voice was gentle, almost paternal. “You’ve been working very hard with your studies. Perhaps too hard.”

She glanced at him sideways. Was this his way of saying she didn’t need to push herself? That he didn’t expect much from her anyway?

“Your mother used to sit right here when she was overwhelmed,” Ryuji continued, his gaze fixed on the koi swimming lazily below. “She said the water helped her think clearly.”

The mention of her mother sent a familiar pang through Naomi’s chest. “Did she... did she ever talk about what overwhelmed her?”

“Many things.” His tone remained carefully neutral. “Adjusting to this life wasn’t always easy for her. The responsibilities, the expectations.” He paused, then looked directly at Naomi. “Are you feeling overwhelmed, Usagi?”

The way he said her nickname—soft, almost reverent—made something uncomfortable twist in her stomach, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. “Sometimes,” she admitted carefully.

“That’s natural. You’ve been through a great deal.” He reached over and gently brushed a fallen leaf from her hair, the contact brief but somehow lingering. “But you’re not alone in this. You know that, don’t you?”

Naomi nodded, interpreting this as reassurance that he wouldn’t abandon her before she was ready. She knew that already, Ryuji was the kind of man who paid his dues. “I know you’ve been... taking care of everything. I’m grateful.”

Something flickered across his expression. Far too quick for her to read. “Your gratitude isn’t necessary. You’re family.”

For now, she thought. Until he grew tired of the responsibility. Until he started looking for a way to secure an heir again.

“Have you given any thought to your classes?” he asked, his tone conversational. “If any of the your tutors are not to your liking, they can be changed.”

Here was her opening. Naomi straightened slightly. “Actually, I was thinking... maybe I should go back to regular school soon. The tutoring is good, but—”

“Is it not sufficient?” The question was mild, but she caught the slight edge beneath it.

“No, it’s just—I think I’d benefit from being around other students again. Being social is good for recovery and learning, you know? And for college applications...”

“College.” He repeated the word thoughtfully. “You’re still quite young to be worrying about such things.”

“I’ll be applying in a few years. I should start preparing now if I want good options.”

“Options.” Another thoughtful repetition. “What kind of options were you considering?”

Naomi’s pulse quickened. Danger danger danger. She had to be careful here. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Ryuji was quiet for a long moment, watching the water. When he finally spoke, his voice held that same deep, gentle tone, but something about it made her skin prickle.

“The world can be a dangerous place, especially for a young women with your... position. Here, you’re safe. Protected.” He turned to look at her again, and his dark eyes seemed to see straight through her. “I understand that everything here reminds you of her, that you might feel the need to escape those memories. But healing doesn’t happen through running away.”

Naomi’s mouth went dry. He thought she wanted to leave because of grief? Because the memories hurt too much? If only it were that simple. “I’m not trying to run from anything—”

“It’s natural,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “This house, these gardens, even your studies, everything carries traces of your mother. I know how overwhelming that can be.” He stood then, brushing imaginary dust from his suit. “But you’re safe here with me, Usagi. Let me worry about the difficult things. That’s what I’m here for. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

There it is again, she thought with a flash of irritation. That tone. Like I’ll break with a strong gust of wind. Even her mother had never spoken to her like that, like she was made of spun glass that might shatter at the slightest pressure.

He stood then, brushing imaginary dust from his suit. “Come. You should rest before dinner. And Naomi?” He waited until she looked up at him. “If you’re truly interested in returning to school, we can discuss it. But carefully. Your safety will always be my primary concern.”

As he walked away, Naomi sat frozen by the pond. She should have felt hopeful—he’d said they could discuss school. Instead, something about the conversation left her feeling like prey that had just been marked by a patient predator.

She shook her head, dismissing the ridiculous thought. Ryuji was just being protective, the way any guardian would be. The way he’d probably promised her mother he would be.

Still, as she gathered her sandals and followed the path back to the house, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her escape plan had just become infinitely more complicated.