Page 9 of Kotori
I inhale deeply, catching the subtle change in her scent when I move closer.
"The girls tell me their first English lesson exceeded expectations," I say, watching her response. Pleasure at the compliment, maternal satisfaction at their approval. When she smiles, it's like sunlight, making me want to discover what other expressions I can draw from those soft lips.
"They're remarkably intelligent and gifted," she responds. "Especially considering they're learning a second language so young. You should be very proud."
"I am." My tone allows warmth to enter for the first time, and I note how her posture relaxes slightly at the approval. She wants to please, wants to belong, wants validation she doesn't realize she's seeking. "They are my greatest treasure."
Aya beams at the praise while Kohana blushes quietly. Mizuki maintains composure but I catch the pleased tilt of her chin. My daughters crave approval, recognition, acknowledgment of their worth. Simple human needs that serve larger purposes.
When I gesture for her to pour sake, her hesitation reveals awareness that this isn't simply about beverage service. Cultural hierarchy being established through ceremony, submission disguised as hospitality.
"I... I'm not sure I know the proper way."
"Mizuki-chan will guide you."
She follows my daughter's instruction with careful attention, and when her fingers brush mine as she hands me the cup, I let the contact linger. Her breath catches at the touch—barely audible, but I catch it. Her body knows what her mind hasn't accepted yet.
That she's already mine.
I maintain eye contact while sipping the sake, watching color rise in her cheeks, the way she holds herself when uncertain but trying to project confidence. The combination of strength and vulnerability makes my pulse quicken with anticipation of everything I'll teach her about surrender.
Rash independence meeting ancient authority. She has no idea how beautiful she'll be when she stops fighting what we both want.
Hayashi begins serving dinner. Traditional kaiseki courses presented in ancient ceramic bowls, each dish a small work ofart. The foreign woman watches carefully, probably trying to memorize proper etiquette she doesn't want to violate.
"In our family," I tell her, "dinner is sacred time. No outside concerns, no business discussion. Only gratitude for what we share together."
She nods understanding while observing how my daughters handle chopsticks, the respectful silence maintained between servings. Learning, adapting, trying to fit herself into patterns established long before her arrival.
I sip the sake while maintaining eye contact, watching the way she holds herself when uncertain but trying to project confidence. Beautiful combination of strength and vulnerability.
"Tell us about America," I say, setting down the cup. "My daughters are curious about Western customs besides what they see on television."
"Paige-sensei," Aya says, chopsticks pausing over her rice. "Do American children really eat candy for breakfast? I heard they have sugar cereal!"
Paige laughs, a genuine sound that makes even Mizuki's lips twitch. "Some cereals do have a lot of sugar, but we don't usually eat candy for breakfast. Though I suppose sugary cereal isn't that different."
"Can we try American cereal, Otou-san?" Aya turns to me with pleading eyes. "Just for," she pauses. "Cultural education?"
"We'll see," I tell her, and she beams.
"What drew you to Japan specifically?" I ask.
"The history, the traditions. Everything here feels deeper than what I'm used to. Like there are layers of meaning I'm just beginning to understand."
Perceptive answer. She recognizes cultural depth while acknowledging her position as outsider seeking understanding. Perfect foundation for education in our ways, our values, our expectations.
As the meal concludes, my daughters express gratitude with formal bows before Hayashi escorts them to evening studies. Aya skips slightly despite the formal setting, Kohana clutches a book, and Mizuki moves with the dignity of someone already practicing to be family heir.
Paige begins to rise with them, probably assuming dinner has ended.
"Stay," I tell her quietly. "Tell me about your teaching philosophy."
She settles back onto the cushion, relaxing slightly at the professional topic.
"I believe in meeting students where they are," she begins. "Understanding their individual strengths and adapting methods accordingly."
"Wise approach. Children respond better to guidance that respects their nature rather than forcing conformity." I observe her reaction to agreement rather than challenge. "I heard you handled Mizuki's testing well today."
