Page 47 of The Queen's Denial

“Oh, I am so sorry, Asuka-Sama, I have a terrible habit with my feet when I’m nervous. I didn’t realize that was you. I would never be so forward… I apologize.” Now that he thinks I’m embarrassed, perhaps he’ll loosen up a little. Maybe I can make him think he has a bit of an upper hand, even as awkward as he is.

When I look up, however, I notice that Asuka has stiffened with an almost comical look of uneasiness on his face. It’s a struggle to keep from bursting out laughing. “Is something displeasing to you, Asuka-sama?”

He gulps and blinks hard, seemingly jolted out of his trance by my words. But he has no idea what to say. Unfortunately, it seems I’ve flustered him even more by touching him.

“It’s-it’s okay, Chichi-san. I… if you’ll excuse me.” He gets up and exits quickly, walking robotically with his head down and his cheeks a rosy pink. I blow air up into my bangs. This shit is going to be harder than I thought.

*****

Over the next few days, I meet with three more matches. They are all nothing like Asuka, of course. The next, Jiro, seems to even know a bit about priming a good possible match: pulling my chair out for me, using his words to paint a beautiful picture of our first real date, where he would like to take me and why. He knows a lot about Japan and actually makes good conversation.

He would be the easy choice if I were actually in this for the possibility of a partner. But I’m not. I know I don’t have the luxury to hope it would turn out all right with him or anyone. And no one will take my title from me. They will have to rip the Yakuza crown from my cold, dead hands if they want me to give up power. My father bred me to take over this organization, and I will not let him down.

Daiki is back in Japan, so I meet with my father to discuss how I want to proceed with my short list of matches.

“It will be down to two matches, and then you will go on a date with each. Obviously, nothing too salacious.” He eyes me critically, and I meet his gaze and nod with understanding. My father knows about my occasional jaunts. He’s not stupid. He knows I enjoy men, and I allow them to enjoy me. As long as I’m careful about it, he doesn’t pry or care. Neither of us need to explain why I’m not a virgin, because the leader of the Yakuza doesn’t need to explain anything.

I’m not sure why, but he seems slightly uneasy when he asks his next question. “Have you chosen your matches?”

I answer without hesitation. “Asuka and Jiro.”

My father’s eyebrows, usually a consistent, dark slash of malcontent, jump up slightly. “You have your answer so quickly. Are you certain?”

“Yes, Oto-san. And, may I be honest?”

“Yes, Chichi, speak your mind.”

I gather my resolve and spit it out. “I’m very certain that I will choose Asuka-san.”

My father leans back in his chair and studies me with a stoic gaze. “Asuka-san. The short one with the spiky hair that dropped hundreds of Pokémon cards on his way out?”

I allow myself a small smirk. “Father, you should know better than anyone that a match who likes Pokémon is all the more enticing for me.”

My father simply purses his lips together. “Why not Jiro? Speak freely and honestly, my daughter.”

When he asks me to do that, it’s hard not to spill every bit of truth inside of me. I feel the urge to topple over the edge. “Because he’s too good at the game, Father. He’s too charming. It’s like he’s too good to be true. If I am to be the head of this organization, I want to actually use the skills you’ve taught me. I don’t want a man taking over my title, Father. And I don’t think you do, either. You know I’m capable on my own. This is just a formality, is it not?”

My father looks away for a moment in contemplation, but then back at me with the same hard gaze. “I told you that I was doing this in large part to protect you, Chichi. You need a man who will be a protector as well.”

I have a protector right now, and I’ll have one in Japan, too. And if anyone would let me, I know how to protect myself as well. I don’t need my husband to protect me; I need him to stand back so that I can fulfill my birthright. I disagree with my father. Fuck, I wish I could tell him that. But I can’t.

So, I do the next best thing. “Father, I think you know by now that I will do what you ask of me. But you chose this man for a reason to meet with me, out of scores of potential matches. I know the power his family brings to a possible union. The question is, what do you really want, Father? Because you know I will follow the path you set for me. You’ve told me that I have some choice in it, and this is what I’ve chosen. Do you assent?”

I gather the courage to look up into my father’s gaze after I’m done, and what I see there strikes me deep in my gut. I’ve never seen this look before, but it’s far too much like discouragement. Almost disappointment, but not quite. He doesn’t seem disappointed in me, at least, but there’s… something. Something I can’t put my finger on.

“I assent,” he says rigidly. He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, and I practically run to get away from the painful look of budding apprehension on his face, although I know it will plague me until long into the night.

*****

Mara FaceTimes me an hour later, after I’ve eased my mind with some mochi.

“Oh heyyyy Chica Chi…” she says, scratching her cheek in a strangely provocative way.

I look at her curiously. “What’s up with you?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I just feel… so different. Like a different type of woman.” All of her words are slow and sassy, and a cute, self-satisfied little smirk makes its way across her face as she lightly taps and scrapes her fingers over her chin.

“I wish I had time to guess at why you’re being so weird, but can you just tell me?” I ask with impatience. I usually love these types of little games, but I have to admit to myself that I might be feeling a bit of stress from the heavy responsibility I have on my shoulders today.

---