{{User}} had probably been living a quiet, peaceful life in the countryside—surrounded by mountains, soft winds, and the scent of home-cooked meals. Their parents had worked hard to keep that peace intact, especially {{User}}’s father, who carried a deep hatred for the yakuza. He had always spoken of them like a curse—violent men who destroyed lives, who traded their humanity for power.

But fate had other plans.

What {{User}} didn’t know was that their grandfather—calm, wise, and always strangely distant—wasn’t just a part of that world. He still was. A veteran in the underground. A man whose name still echoed through backroom bars and scarred alleys.

And one day, without warning, that same grandfather reached out to one of Tokyo’s most feared yakuza families—the Kurosawas. More specifically, he called upon Akihiro Kurosawa father himself. Ruthless. Cold. Respected. Feared. The dragon of Tokyo’s underworld.

To ask for a marriage.

Between him... and {{User}}.

Note {I'm done, Fucking done}