Page 108 of Kotori
I move to the document shredder beside my desk, feeding each page through the blades with mechanical precision. The motor hums as it destroys the obscene evidence, but the damage is done. Each sheet tears apart with satisfying violence, but I can't shred the images burned into my memory. Whether Mizuki sent these communications or someone manufactured them using her identity, the fact that a man sat in my office and showed me such things about my child fills me with the kind of rage that has started wars.
Now, examining the situation without those obscene materials on my desk, inconsistencies become clearer. Daichi's presentation troubles me more with each replay in my mind.
The language patterns are authentically Mizuki's—her analytical approach to new subjects, her formal politeness even in inappropriate context. The phone number matches her device. The timing aligns with behavioral changes I attributed to academic stress rather than sexual awakening.
But Daichi's presentation troubles me more with each replay. The practiced smoothness of moving from revelations to marriage proposal. The way his concern seemed rehearsed rather than genuine. Most disturbingly, his description of my daughter's alleged messages as "eager to learn, to please" carried satisfaction rather than discomfort. A twenty-five-year-old man receiving explicit communications from an eighteen-year-old girl should be horrified, not titillated. Should refuse to describe the content in detail, not linger over descriptions of her "enthusiasm" and willingness to "please."
Either my sheltered daughter developed catastrophic judgment about appropriate behavior, or someone spent weeks manipulating her curiosity for their own purposes.
Both scenarios demand investigation, but one demands blood.
I reach for my phone, dialing Takeshi's private number with the cold focus that precedes systematic hunting.
"Aniki?"
I brief him quickly on Daichi's visit, the alleged evidence, and my growing suspicions about predatory behavior disguised as salvation. Takeshi listens without interruption, asking only tactical questions about timeline and technical details.
"Twenty-five-year-old man receiving explicit messages from teenage girl shows satisfaction rather than horror," I conclude. "Either my daughter has been catastrophically naive, or someone has been grooming her for weeks."
"Hai, Aniki. I'll handle the technical analysis and surveillance immediately."
"If my daughter was manipulated, the predator dies. If she acted independently, we address her failures. But first, I need to know which scenario we're facing."
I disconnect and consider my next move. Before confronting Mizuki directly, I need to understand exactly how her behavior changed, whether someone coached her responses or simply exploited natural curiosity.
The woman who spends daily hours with my daughters, who might have observed signs of manipulation that escape a father's notice.
I find Paige in the kitchen. She looks up at my approach, immediately reading tension in my posture through months of intimate connection.
"Kaito? Is everything alright?"
I settle onto a breakfast bar stool, studying her face in the warm kitchen lighting. The protective instincts that make her so valuable to our household's stability are already sharpening into focus.
"I need to discuss Mizuki with you."
"Of course. What about her?"
"Her behavior over the past few weeks." I lean forward slightly, reading her reaction. "Has anything seemed unusual? Any changes you've noticed?"
Paige sets down her cleaning cloth, giving my question serious consideration.
"She's been so anxious lately. Jumping at sudden sounds, keeping her phone close, staying up late." Her voice carries growing worry. "When I've tried to check on her after nightmares, she just says she's worried about her future, about not being good enough."
Standard teenage anxiety, or something darker underneath.
"Has she mentioned anyone specifically? Any interactions that seemed to affect her mood?"
"Not really. She doesn't talk much about people outside the family." Paige frowns slightly. "Though she did seem quieter after the summer festival. More I don't know, watchful? Like she was waiting for something bad to happen."
The summer festival. Where Daichi would have had access to her, opportunity to begin whatever game he's been playing.
"Kaito, what's happened? Is someone threatening her?"
"Daichi Shuichi came to me tonight with evidence that Mizuki has been sending him inappropriate messages. Explicit communications and photographs."
She grips the counter edge with white knuckles, expression cycling through shock and mounting rage. "That's impossible. She would never so that. Unless someone convinced her shehad no choice. Made her believe she was already compromised somehow."
Her protective instincts align with my growing suspicions—this isn't teenage curiosity gone wrong, but systematic manipulation of a vulnerable girl. "Help me understand what you've observed. Any changes in her behavior that might indicate coercion rather than curiosity."
