Vol3 Chapter 8: Brother?

Genji Uesugi leaned against the cold glass curtain wall, his tall figure casting a solitary silhouette in the dim light. A half-burned Seven Stars cigarette rested between his fingers, white smoke curling upward, drifting before his stern face, softening the usual sharpness in his brow but adding a layer of brooding unease… and a faint, almost imperceptible restlessness.

Though airport rules banned smoking, he wanted to smoke. And no one dared stop him.

He took a deep drag, the acrid tobacco searing his lungs, trying to quell the unfamiliar, irritating clamor in his chest. His sharp gaze cut through the crowd and smoke, locking onto the international arrivals gate like a hawk eyeing prey. But only he knew how much turmoil churned beneath that focus.

Little sister… Bai Ci.

The title rolled on his tongue, carrying an almost surreal weight. He did have a younger sister, like a cute little beast, a bit dazed. His father had called her dangerous, but Genji found her endearing, not threatening.

As the “emperor” burdened with heavy chains and responsibilities, he was a dutiful leader but a negligent brother.

For twenty years, she’d been confined in a windowless cell, deemed “dangerous,” a potential destroyer of the world.

Now, another sister had arrived, stepping onto Japanese soil, his domain. What did it mean? Trust? Or no other choice? How should he face her? As Genji Uesugi, head of the Executive Bureau, or… as her brother?

The latter felt stranger, harder than facing a Dragon King. He was used to commands, killing, control—not playing “big brother.” He even regretted coming to pick her up himself. Why not send Crow or Yasha? Or let Sakura handle it…

The thought was snuffed out as quickly as it came.

The cigarette burned shorter, ash trembling precariously. He flicked it irritably, the motion heavy with suppressed force. An ashtray sat nearby, but he seemed oblivious to it. His eyes flicked to his watch—time ticked by, each gate-opening chime tightening his nerves.

“Young Master,” came Sakura Yabuki’s cool, steady voice, her faint fragrance reaching him. “Miss Bai Ci’s flight landed ten minutes ago. She should be out soon.” Her ice-blue eyes calmly watched the gate, noting the too-quickly burning cigarette and his stiffer-than-usual stance.

Was she okay on the plane? Will Tokyo’s rainy weather bother her? How will she see me, this sudden “brother”? Did my cold, scrutinizing attitude last time make her resent me?

A whirlwind of thoughts clashed in his mind, muddling his usually clear focus. This felt worse than his first high-risk mission—utterly disorienting. He even rehearsed his opening line: “Rough trip?” or just her name?

Damn it! He cursed inwardly, fingers nearly snapping the cigarette. Since when was he this indecisive, this anxious? It wasn’t him.

Sakura’s voice cut through again, tinged with quiet certainty: “She’s here.”

Genji’s eyes snapped up.

Bai Ci, pulling a simple suitcase, emerged from the arrivals corridor, blending into the bustling crowd. Her gaze instinctively searched the area.

In an instant, she locked onto her target.

At the crowd’s edge, two figures stood like unyielding rocks, out of place in the chaos.

Genji Uesugi.

He wore a tailored black trench coat, his posture sharp as a blade, jawline hard, brow etched with an unyielding air of authority honed from years at the top of the Executive Bureau, wielding life-and-death power. Even from a distance, Bai Ci felt the invisible pressure radiating from him, a low-pressure zone that made passersby instinctively detour. His hands were in his pockets, eyes scanning the exit like a tiger patrolling its territory.

Half a step behind, Sakura Yabuki was calm as still water. In a crisp dark suit, her hair neatly tied back, her ice-blue eyes surveyed everything like a precision instrument, ensuring her Young Master’s safety. She gave Bai Ci a subtle nod, a faint acknowledgment.

Bai Ci paused briefly, then walked straight toward them.

Genji, almost instinctively, crushed the cigarette stub in the ashtray with a hurried motion. He straightened, hands back in his pockets, schooling his face into the stern mask of the Executive Bureau chief.

Bai Ci approached without stopping.

Genji watched her draw near, clearing his throat. As she came within speaking distance, he forced his voice to stay steady and low: “Bai Ci.”

His tone was formal, maintaining a veneer of authority and distance. “Rough trip? Welcome to Japan.” He even nodded slightly, a textbook diplomatic gesture.

He studied her, the cold scrutiny in his gaze softening, replaced by a complex mix of emotions—responsibility, assessment, and a faint unease born of their shared blood and years of separation, weighed by their heavy fates.

Sakura, behind him, caught the subtle tension in his posture.

Bai Ci stopped, her suitcase wheels falling silent. She lifted her eyes, meeting Genji’s gaze calmly. The airport’s noise seemed to mute. She saw his carefully maintained sternness, and the faint, almost unaware awkwardness in his eyes.

No small talk, no pleasantries.

She tilted her face slightly, her usually distant, guarded eyes reflecting his stiff figure.

Hesitating, she opened her mouth and, in Japanese, spoke a single, clear word, soft but piercing, like a pebble dropped into a still pond, shattering the icy facade Genji had built.

“Onii-chan.”

The word was quiet, almost flat, a simple statement.

But to Genji, it was a thunderbolt.

His perpetually stoic face transformed in a split second. His hands, buried in his pockets, clenched, knuckles whitening. His rigid spine stiffened further, as if struck by an invisible current. Most striking were his eyes—those sharp, blade-like orbs widened, pupils dilating, swirling with shock, disbelief, a flash of panic, and then an overwhelming, molten warmth and satisfaction that erupted, demolishing his carefully constructed defenses.

Authority? Sternness? The Executive Bureau chief’s aura? Crumbled in an instant.

What did she call me?

Big brother?

Eri had never called him that!

Though, to be fair, she couldn’t…

His heart thudded wildly, a strange, aching warmth surging to his head, his ears faintly burning. He tried to keep his face stern, to uphold a brotherly composure, but his lips betrayed him, twitching upward in a clumsy, unfamiliar, almost distorted smile of joy.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat tightened. All his rehearsed, formal greetings felt laughably hollow now.

Finally, he managed a dry: “Uh… yeah.”

Sakura, behind him, caught a fleeting glint of understanding and faint amusement in her ice-blue eyes. She saw his expression collapse and rebuild, and the barely contained joy in his response. The man who ruled Tokyo’s underworld, feared by many, now seemed like a kid handed candy for the first time.

Bai Ci took in his dramatic reaction. Her face remained expressionless, but a faint ripple stirred in her calm eyes. She nodded slightly, acknowledging his awkward “yeah.”

“Let’s go,” Genji said, regaining his voice, forcing down the lingering warmth to sound natural. He reached for her suitcase handle, the motion smoother now, the deliberate distance gone after that “big brother,” replaced by a clumsy but genuine closeness. “Car’s outside.”

Sakura stepped aside silently, guiding the way.

The three merged into the airport’s flow. Genji walked beside Bai Ci, his steps lighter than when he’d arrived.