Page 53 of Kotori
"Five. The core group." Takeshi pauses. "Aniki, this feels like…"
"A trap," I finish, rising. "The question is whether the old fox has overplayed his hand."
I dress quickly in a dark suit and arrive at the family conference room, a space built to intimidate with its history. I find them already assembled: five advisors in formal black, each reflecting decades of yakuza life.
My father's former wakagashira sits with the authority of someone who's forgotten he serves me, not my father. Their arrangement is deliberate—I'm meant to feel like a defendant, not the head of this family.
I enter to find them already assembled—five senior advisors in formal black, each man's posture reflecting decades of violence masked by ceremony. My father's former wakagashira sits with the composed authority of someone who's forgotten he serves the son, not the father. The arrangement is deliberate, calculated to make me feel like a defendant approaching judgment rather than the head of this family.
"Matsumoto-sama." Hiroshi's voice is polite, but his eyes reveal his intent. "Thank you for joining us."
I take my place at the head of the table, making it clear who leads despite their theatrics. "What's this about?" I ask directly.
"We have concerns," Hiroshi begins. "Four years since Akira's passing. Your daughters are growing up without proper maternal guidance."
Using my dead wife's name in this setting sends ice through my veins.
"Mizuki is eighteen," continues Sato, Hiroshi's ally. "Several families have inquired about marriage arrangements. Without a proper Japanese mother to guide her..."
They're using my daughter as leverage.
"My daughters are well cared for," I say, my voice steel. "Mizuki's education is excellent."
"Daichi's family has expressed concerns," Hiroshi says. "They worry about foreign influence on their potential bride. A Japanese household expects values, not Western independence."
I study the faces around the table. Most avoid my eyes—uncomfortable but unwilling to oppose Hiroshi. Old men who mistake nostalgia for wisdom.
"What exactly are you suggesting?" I ask.
"A Japanese wife for you. Better preparation for Mizuki's marriage to Daichi. An arrangement that strengthens clan bonds instead of weakening them."
"And who do you have in mind?" I ask.
"Ishida's daughter—well-educated, beautiful. Ito's niece—proven fertility, good lineage. Women who understand their role."
Women who would serve his agenda, not mine. Wives chosen for his political advantage, not my satisfaction.
"When did my personal life become committee business?" I ask.
The question lands hard. Hiroshi's mask slips.
"When your choices affect family stability," he says. "When foreign influence threatens our bloodline. When a leader's judgment becomes clouded by inappropriate attachments."
Inappropriate attachments.A direct challenge.
I smile. "Let's discuss what actually threatens our foundation." I stand, and the room shifts. Even Hiroshi's allies sense the change, the moment when politics becomes something more dangerous.
"Our family has survived sixteen generations through adaptation. We preserved honor while embracing change." Myvoice drops. "You claim I show weakness by making choices that serve my family's needs rather than your comfort."
I walk around the table, stopping behind each man in turn.
"Last month's territory dispute. You advised retreat. I stood firm and gained new territory and revenue."
I stop behind another advisor. "The cultural preservation projects you called 'worthless.' They've strengthened our reputation internationally."
I return to my seat. "My household arrangements strengthen our position. An American teacher gives my daughters advantages in a global world. Intelligence serves them better than blind adherence."
Hiroshi attempts one last stand. "Foreign influence—"
