Page 7 of Kotori
Her ex-fiancé's digital footprint provided useful intelligence. The background check revealed messages, emails, social media—all obtained without leaving traces. David Goldman, corporate lawyer, had written to friends about her "stubborn streak" and "trust issues" after their breakup. Private messages revealed someone seeking fresh starts and new beginnings.
His digital trail told me more than he realized. How she freezes when truly afraid instead of running. How she responds to firm commands while pretending independence. How she craves a man's approval while denying it. The weakness in her I can smell like blood in water.
I've seen countless women like her. Those raised to believe they equal men while their bodies betray deeper truths. The way they unconsciously bare their throats when confronted withtrue dominance. The flush spreading across their skin when commanded. The submission they crave but fight against.
What makes her perfect isn't her beauty, though I'll enjoy marking that pale skin. It's the fight in her that hasn't yet met a predator worthy of breaking it. She's spent her life among boys playing at being men. She has no concept of what happens when a woman like her meets a man like me.
Smart, wounded, seeking stability. Perfect for what she'll become.
"Business updates?"
Takeshi transitions smoothly between personal and professional briefings. "The Gion properties generated expected revenue last month. Traditional craft exports exceed projections. American tourism interest in authentic cultural experiences continues growing."
Legitimate income streams fund our lifestyle while providing cover for less traditional activities. Cultural preservation pays remarkably well when properly managed.
"The immigration official's replacement proves more cooperative regarding documentation flexibility. The transition completed without complications affecting family interests."
The old bureaucrat had been asking inconvenient questions about foreign nationals employed by traditional families. His replacement understands the value of reasonable accommodation regarding bureaucratic irregularities.
The morning passes in productive preparation. Business communications requiring responses, security protocols reviewed one final time, household staff coordinated for seamless hospitality.
At nine forty-three, my phone buzzes with an arrival notification.
Perfect timing.
"She'sadaptingwell,Matsumoto-sama."Hayashi kneels across from me in the family receiving room, afternoon tea service arranged between us. "The girls have taken to her immediately."
"Good." Hayashi pours my tea first, then serves herself while I wait for her to continue.
"Aya-chan barely stopped talking about her new sensei during meal time. Kohana-chan asked permission to share her books. Even Mizuki-chan seemed engaged."
My eldest daughter's interest carries more weight than enthusiastic chatter from the younger ones. Mizuki evaluates adults carefully, trusts sparingly.
"Any difficulties?"
"None. She shows proper respect for our customs, genuine care for the children." Hayashi meets my eyes briefly. "She seems grateful to be here, Matsumoto-sama."
"Dinner preparations?"
"Everything arranged according to your specifications. Traditional service, formal setting, appropriate seating establishing her position in the family hierarchy." Hayashi rises. "The girls are excited to have her join us for an evening meal. Aya-chan has selected her best outfit for the occasion."
My youngest daughter's enthusiasm will create social pressure for the foreign woman to participate fully, engage completely, and begin seeing herself as a family member rather than temporary employee.
Emotional manipulation disguised as childhood innocence.
"Inform the girls that dinner conversation will include discussion of extended lessons."
"Hai, Matsumoto-sama." No questions about timeline or termination conditions. Hayashi understands some arrangements become permanent without formal acknowledgment.
She withdraws, leaving me alone with afternoon sunlight and plans proceeding flawlessly.
This compound has been Matsumoto territory for fifteen generations. These walls have witnessed the breaking of enemies, the subjugation of rivals, the claiming of women. Power flows through this place like blood through veins.
Every member of my household knows their place in the hierarchy. From Takeshi, who would die before betraying me, to the youngest servant who trembles when I enter a room. They understand what Westerners have forgotten—order requires authority, and authority requires fear.
The American woman thinks she's entering a simple teaching position. She doesn't understand she's walking into a predator's den.
She'll learn.
