Page 26 of Kotori
"The blue nightgown suits you. Perhaps wear it again tonight."
Heat floods my body, shame and excitement warring for dominance. He's watched me, wants to watch me again, and some traitorous part of me thrills at the knowledge.
"As you wish," I murmur, slipping out the door before he can see the confusion on my face.
In the hallway, I press my back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing. What just happened? I went in believing I had seized some small measure of control, only to discover I'd been dancing to his tune all along.
Even my rebellion was part of his plan.
He saw through me so completely. Understood parts of myself I barely acknowledge. And rather than running from this beautiful monster, I find myself wondering how much further I can push him before those promised "consequences" become reality.
7
Paige
"Idon'tunderstandwhywe need to learn this," Mizuki says, staring at the English essay prompt with obvious frustration. "When will I ever need to write about 'my dreams for the future' in English?"
A week has passed since I discovered the cameras in my room, a week of performing every night while pretending during the day that nothing has changed between Kaito and me. The morning after my first deliberate show had been excruciating—walking into breakfast with my cheeks burning, knowing he'd watched me, commanded by him to wear that blue silk again, wondering if he'd been pleased.
And now I'm trying to focus on teaching while my mind keeps circling back to how willingly I've been displaying myself for his cameras each night since.
"Because someday you might want to study abroad," I suggest gently to Mizuki, dragging my thoughts back to the present. "American universities require personal essays."
"I won't be studying abroad." Her tone is flat, final. "My place is here, with the family business."
The way she says "family business" makes it clear we're not talking about cultural preservation or traditional crafts. There's resignation in her voice, the sound of an eighteen-year-old who's already accepted that her life has been decided for her.
"What if you had a choice?" I ask quietly.
Mizuki's pen stops moving. Across the table, Kohana looks up from her vocabulary worksheet, suddenly alert. Even little Aya pauses to listen.
"There's always a choice," Mizuki says carefully. "But some choices have consequences."
The weight in her words makes my chest tight. "Tell me about your dreams, Mizuki-chan. Not what you think you should want. What you actually dream about."
For a moment, her perfect composure cracks. I see a flash of longing, quickly suppressed. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
The simple words hang in the air. Kohana sets down her pencil, watching her older sister with worried eyes. Aya abandons her coloring completely, sensing the tension even if she doesn't understand it.
"I..." Mizuki starts, then stops. She tries again. "I used to think about studying international law. Working with the UN, maybe."
The admission is a whisper, like she's confessing something shameful.
"That's brilliant," I say, meaning it completely. "You'd be incredible at that."
"Otou-san needs me here," she says firmly, walls slamming back up. "The family needs—"
"Mizuki." I lean forward, catching her eyes. "Your father loves you. Parents want their children to be happy, to reach their potential. Have you talked to him about this?"
"You don't understand." Her voice is strained. "Being oyabun means sacrifice. Not just for him—for all of us. My happiness is..." She trails off, shaking her head.
"Secondary?" I finish gently.
She nods, not trusting her voice.
My heart breaks for her. Eighteen years old and already convinced her dreams don't matter. I glance at Kohana, who's watching this exchange with the intensity of someone who sees her own future in her sister's resignation.
