Page 99 of Kotori
"This isn't about forcing you to love someone you're not ready to accept," I continue, allowing gentleness to enter my voice. "It's about demonstrating the strength your mother died to protect. The courage to face difficulty with dignity rather than lashing out in pain. The kind of grace you'll need when you're a wife with children of your own, navigating the complexities that come with our family's position."
Something flickers across her face at the mention of her future. The reminder of what awaits her, the expectations that come with being a Matsumoto daughter in this world, settles over her like a weight she's not quite ready to carry. She considers this carefully, intelligence I'm proud of working through implications that extend far beyond this morning's lesson. Finally, she nods with reluctant acceptance.
"Hai, Otou-san. I'll apologize."
"Good." I straighten my jacket with the satisfaction of a lesson delivered effectively. "The family leaves for our outing at ten. I expect you ready, appropriately dressed, and prepared to show Paige-san the respect she deserves."
"And if..." She hesitates, uncertainty coloring her voice. "What if I try but still feel angry?"
The question reveals genuine effort to overcome her emotional resistance, which deserves acknowledgment. But it also suggests she still doesn't fully understand that feelings are secondary to behavior in matters of family harmony.
"Feelings are internal, Mizuki-chan. Actions are choices." I move toward the door, pausing to deliver final instruction. "You can feel whatever you need to feel. But you will behave with the honor your mother taught you, or face consequences."
The implicit threat hangs in morning air like incense, gentle but unmistakable. She understands now that yesterday's emotional display was the last indulgence teenage grief will receive.
"Otou-san?" Her voice stops me at the threshold. "Do you think Mama would approve of Paige-san?"
The question hits exactly where I'm most vulnerable: the intersection of love for my lost wife and responsibility for my living family. But the answer comes without hesitation, born from certainty that's grown over months of watching Paige integrate into our lives.
"Your mother wanted above all else for you to be loved, protected, and free to become everything your potential promises." I turn back to face her fully, letting her see complete conviction. "Paige-san offers exactly what Akira dreamed of for you."
She nods slowly, understanding finally beginning to penetrate the defensive walls of grief and fear. Not complete acceptance,that will take time, but acknowledgment that her resistance serves no one, protects nothing, honors no memory worth preserving.
"I'll try," she whispers, and something in her voice, vulnerability mixed with determination, reminds me so strongly of Akira that my chest tightens.
"That's all anyone can ask." I pause at the door. "Your mother's love doesn't disappear when you open your heart to someone new, Mizuki-chan. It grows stronger, brighter, more beautiful than she ever imagined possible."
This morning's lesson achieved its purpose. Mizuki understands now that disrespect carries consequences, that family harmony takes precedence over individual emotional expression, that her place in this household comes with responsibilities she can't ignore because of grief. More importantly, she's beginning to understand that accepting new love doesn't require abandoning old loyalties. That strength sometimes means opening your heart instead of closing it. That the courage her mother died to protect includes the bravery to let people care for you.
27
Paige
I'mreviewingthepicnicsupplies Hayashi prepared when I hear the soft knock on my door.
"Come in," I call, expecting Hayashi with instructions about the family outing. Instead, Mizuki steps through the doorway, wearing a simple sundress instead of her usual formal attire. Her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, but there's something different in her posture. Less defensive, more uncertain.
"Paige-sensei," she begins, then stops, hands twisting in front of her. "I may I speak with you?"
"Of course." I set down the checklist I'm reviewing and give her my full attention. "What's on your mind?"
She takes a shaky breath, then another, like she's gathering courage for something difficult. "I owe you an apology. A real one."
My chest tightens with hope I'm afraid to feel. "Mizuki-chan..."
"Please." She holds up one hand, very much her father's daughter in that moment. "Let me say this properly." She movesto the center of the room and bows, not the casual nod she usually gives, but a deep, formal bow that speaks of genuine remorse and respect.
"I was cruel to you yesterday," she says, voice steady despite the emotion underneath. "I used my mother's memory as a weapon to hurt someone who's only shown kindness to my family. That was wrong. Dishonorable. Unworthy of how I was raised." She straightens, meeting my eyes directly. "You didn't deserve my anger. You've done nothing but love us, and I was afraid of that love. Afraid it meant forgetting Mama."
"Oh." The sound comes out thick with emotion.
"Papa helped me understand that love doesn't work that way. That accepting you doesn't diminish what she gave us." Tears slide down her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. "I'd like to try again. If you'll let me."
I cross the room without thinking, gathering her into my arms. She goes stiff for a moment, then melts against me with a broken sob that sounds like four years of held grief finally finding release.
"There's nothing to forgive," I whisper against her hair. "I understand, Mizuki-chan. I understand why you needed to protect her memory."
"I called her Mama," she whispers against my shoulder. "Always Mama, never the formal Okaa-san. She said she liked it better because it sounded like love instead of duty."
