Page 6 of Kotori
He slides the door shut behind him, and I'm alone in the beautiful room with its view of the misty gardens and its complete isolation from anything resembling escape.
I sit on the cushion, straighten my back, and realize what just happened. My new employer is breathtakingly handsome. His home resembles a fortress. His daughters test me, his staff watches me, and this entire situation feels like an elaborate trap with a delayed trigger.
Outside, cherry petals drift past the window, delicate and transient. In Japanese culture, they represent the impermanence of life—beautiful but fleeting. Their brief existence serves as a reminder that nothing lasts forever.
Except perhaps some things do. This house. This family. The weight of whatever I've just walked into.
But I'm not David's discarded fiancée anymore. I'm not the woman who found her entire future crumbling in her own bedroom. I'm not the little girl watching her father walk away without looking back. I'm Paige Williams, English teacher, survivor, and I'll handle whatever this family throws at me.
Even if that includes learning to sleep in a compound where the master of the house looks at me like I'm something he plans to keep.
2
Kaito
Four-thirtycomeswithoutneedfor alarms. It has for the past twenty years.
I kneel before the family shrine in predawn darkness, hands folded, breathing steady. Incense smoke carries my words to ancestors who built this legacy stone by stone. The same ritual my father performed, his father before him.
"Today the foreign woman arrives," I tell them. "She will serve our purposes well."
Meditation centers my mind, awakens the hunter. By sunset, Paige Williams will be emotionally invested in my daughters' happiness. By week's end, the mere thought of leaving them will tear at her heart.
The bonds forged by our hands hold strongest.
The agency sent her file only days ago. Sleep has eluded me since. The hunt demands focus.
Her photo awakened something primitive in my blood. Beyond the golden hair or wide blue eyes—eyes perfect for fillingwith tears. Her expression betrayed her—vulnerability hidden behind professional smiles. She has no idea she was born to be conquered.
Others came before her. Foreign women thinking they'd simply teach my daughters and leave with polite recommendations. None lasted beyond a few months before breaking. None satisfied the hunger in me.
This one will be different. This one I'll keep.
Dawn light filters through paper screens as I move to the training grounds. The wooden floor bears scars from centuries of blades. I select my grandfather's katana from the rack—steel folded ten thousand times, edge that cuts through bone.
Forty minutes of forms, muscle memory and meditation combined. Each movement precise, controlled, deadly.
The sword returns to its place with whispered steel against lacquered wood. Everything in order. Everything as it should be.
I prepare with ceremonial attention to detail. Traditional hakama for morning meditation, business attire for the woman's arrival, formal kimono set aside for tonight's family dinner. Each outfit serves its purpose, projects proper authority for different audiences.
Takeshi arrives at seven with morning intelligence reports and coffee prepared exactly as I prefer. Fifteen years of service have taught him to anticipate my needs before I voice them.
"Aniki." He bows before settling across from me. "All preparations complete for the gaijin woman's arrival. Security protocols active, household staff briefed, daughters prepared for introduction." He opens briefing materials on the hidden monitor. Surveillance camera positions, background verification summaries, timeline for integration milestones.
"Her transportation status?"
"Taxi departed central Kyoto at eight-fifteen. ETA nine-forty-five, accounting for mountain road conditions." His fingersdance across the tablet, pulling up route tracking. "Driver was provided appropriate compensation for discretion regarding passenger destination."
Of course. Taxi drivers gossip, and this family's business requires privacy. A generous tip ensures selective memory about fares delivered to mountain compounds.
"Perimeter security?"
"Standard protocols. Guards briefed to treat her as honored guest while maintaining documentation of all interactions." Takeshi's tone holds subtle approval for the careful balance required. "She'll feel welcomed but monitored."
Perfect. The first lesson in how this household operates, with generous hospitality combined with absolute awareness of everyone's location and activities.
I review her employment application one final time, though I've memorized every detail. Bachelor's degree in education, three years teaching experience, excellent references describing her as "dedicated" and "protective of students." Young enough to adapt, experienced enough to be competent.
