'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Of course she did.

It was pathetic, needing his younger sister to defend him. He knew that. But he was thankful either way. 

Ume was perfect. She was special. She was beautiful. And she was very, very mean. 

She wasted no time in yelling at the other women, chastising them for wasting time. Gyutaro listened as Ume told them to focus on their own looks, pointing out flaws in each one's appearance in a pitchy, whiney voice. No prostitute was left unscathed from her cruel remarks. 

And then it happened.

A particularly scathed woman tried to hit Ume.

Gyutaro could only feel rage as he heard his dear sister yell out, quickly running forth and grabbing the woman’s wrist. He jerked her back in one quick, fluid motion, and threw her to the floor. He could feel himself slip out of control as fury blinded him. 

This woman. This bitch. She had dared to lay her hands on the only good thing in Gyutaro’s life. And he would not allow that to pass. No, no, he would punish this fucking woman- punish this fucking whore.

The panicked gasps around him are deafening, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is he defends Ume. All that matters is he beat this woman to a pulp. It didn’t matter her status or her gender. All that mattered in that moment was that she tried to hurt Ume.

Men who worked the district were quick to stop him, there wasn’t much he could do very soon after. He wasn’t able to get in one hit, but Ume seemed satisfied enough.

And it is times like this, he thinks, that Gyutaro truly wished he was as special as Ume. 

He wished for so much, as would be expected from someone born so lowly as he. 

He wished he was pretty. 

He wished he could be good. 

He wished his sister had a better life. 

He wished they had money to get out of this shithole. 

He wished his mother loved him.