Page 21 of Kotori
"The other matter?"
Takeshi's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Elder Hiroshi has been asking questions. Subtle inquiries about household staffing, cultural preservation priorities, and your personal interests."
Hiroshi Nakamura, my father's former wakagashira, a traditionalist who believes widowed men should remarry quickly for family stability. The same man who's been pressuring me for four years to find a proper Japanese wife, who insists my daughters need traditional maternal guidance to "grow up correctly."
"Specific questions?"
"Whether the American teacher represents temporary cultural exchange or a distraction from more important family obligations." Takeshi chooses his words carefully. "He expressed concern about maintaining proper family structure, ensuring the daughters receive appropriate feminine instruction."
Appropriate feminine instruction.
Code words for his belief that I should have remarried years ago, that raising daughters alone makes me appear weak, unsuitable for clan leadership. He's been pushing suitable candidates since Akira's funeral—traditional women from respected families who would provide proper maternal influence.
"His exact words?"
"A widowed oyabun requires a proper wife to maintain family honor. The daughters need traditional mother, not foreigndistraction." Takeshi meets my eyes directly. "He suggested current arrangements might interfere with more suitable considerations."
Rage builds in my chest, cold and controlled. Hiroshi dares to question my parenting, to suggest that my daughters lack proper guidance because I've refused his matchmaking attempts. The old bastard views Paige as competition for his plans to control my personal life through strategic marriage.
"Anything else?"
"Inquiries about Miss Williams-san's qualifications, her family background, whether she represents appropriate influence for impressionable young ladies." Takeshi's tone hardens. "He seemed particularly concerned about 'foreign corruption' of traditional Japanese values."
Of course Hiroshi would investigate her. The same pattern as always—questioning my judgment, undermining my authority, pushing his agenda for remarriage to a "suitable" Japanese woman who would provide traditional maternal guidance. He'd been this way since I took over from my father, but after my wife's death it became unbearable.
He hasn't learned that my personal choices aren't subject to his approval.
"Surveillance on his activities?"
"Increased as of this morning. Phone communications monitored, meeting locations tracked, associates documented." Takeshi pulls up files on his tablet. "He's been meeting with other senior kobun."
Good. Let the old fool build his coalition of disapproval while we record every scheme, every attempt to control my household through traditional pressure. When the time comes for confrontation, I'll be prepared.
"Continue monitoring. Full intelligence package." I close the financial reports, business suddenly secondary to familyprotection. "And Takeshi? If he approaches my daughters with questions about their 'need for proper maternal guidance,' I want to know immediately."
"Hai, Aniki."
Hiroshi's interference threatens more than my authority. It threatens her. The American woman who's becoming essential to my daughters' happiness, who's learning to kneel at my feet and say my name with breathless submission.
Anyone who threatens what's mine discovers the cost of that mistake—even former wakagashira who forget their place.
"The acquisition?"
"Owners are waiting in the main conference room. Traditional tea service prepared, all documentation ready for signature." Takeshi's expression shifts back to business efficiency. "They're grateful for the opportunity to preserve their family legacy under our patronage."
The workshop represents generations of traditional craftsmanship, techniques passed down from father to son since the Edo period. Recent financial difficulties created an opportunity for acquisition through negotiation rather than intimidation.
"Preparation details?"
"Tanaka-san and his wife, late seventies, no children interested in continuing family business. Sons work for corporate firms in Tokyo, view traditional crafts as outdated." His tone holds subtle disgust for children who abandon ancestral heritage. "They want assurance that family techniques will be preserved, honored, maintained."
Legitimate desires that align with our cultural preservation mission. Traditional arts deserve protection from commercial exploitation, maintenance by families who understand their historical significance.
The main conference room overlooks gardens where cherry trees prepare for spring blooming, traditional setting that honors the ceremony these negotiations require. Tanaka-san and his wife kneel at the low table with documents spread between tea service and seasonal sweets.
"Matsumoto-sama honors our humble workshop with your interest," the old man says, bowing deeply despite his arthritis.
"The honor is mine, Tanaka-san. Your family's artistry represents irreplaceable cultural treasure."
