Page 107 of Kotori
The text burns into my vision. My daughter's number. Her direct communication style. The timing matches her recent insomnia. There have nights when I've seen light beneath her door, heard restless movement through thin walls.
Normal teenage curiosity, but expressed with dangerous naivety about appropriate boundaries.
"The messages became more desperate, more explicit," Daichi continues, producing another screenshot with what looks like genuine reluctance.
I've been reading things online. I keep wondering what it's really like. Can you help me understand what men want from women?
The language patterns match Mizuki's analytical mind applying itself to adult subjects she doesn't understand. Even in inappropriate context, she maintains the formal politeness that marks proper upbringing.
My hands remain steady as I examine the evidence, but ice spreads through my veins. My sheltered daughter, isolated from normal teenage social development, finally succumbing to natural curiosity in the most destructive way possible.
"Then she began describing specific acts," Daichi says, his voice dropping with distress that seems genuine. "Things she claimed to have learned from internet research, asking if I would teach her personally."
Bile rises in my throat. My innocent daughter, exposed to pornographic material, convinced that such behavior is normal education rather than exploitation.
"I want to be clear," Daichi continues with careful emphasis, "I never encouraged these communications. Never responded inappropriately. But yesterday, she sent this."
He produces what appears to be a photograph sent from Mizuki's phone—a young woman's body from neck to waist, unmarked skin, small breasts barely concealed by sheer fabric. The face is cropped out, but the body type matches my daughter's build exactly.
Below the image, text that makes my vision blur:This is what I look like. Do you find me attractive enough to teach me properly? I promise I'll be a good student.
The words are obscene when attached to my daughter's phone number. The thought of my Mizuki photographing herself this way, believing such display was acceptable. It fills me with rage at my own failure to prepare her adequately.
"I deleted the image immediately," Daichi says quickly, but his eyes linger on the screenshot just a moment too long. "But I felt you needed to know that your daughter has been... reaching out this way."
"However," Daichi continues, his tone shifting slightly, "I want you to know that despite these difficulties I still hold deep respect for Mizuki-chan. Having known her since we were children, having watched her grow into such an intelligent and beautiful woman, I understand that these communications likely stem from the isolation of her upbringing rather than true corruption."
He leans forward slightly, voice taking on a more intimate tone.
"My family has long considered the match favorable, as you know. We've discussed this extensively since these messages began. We understand that sheltered girls sometimes express curiosity inappropriately when approaching adulthood. Given my long acquaintance with her, my affection for her, we're prepared to overlook these communications."
I lean back in my chair, studying evidence of my daughter's sexual awakening expressed in the most destructive way possible. The details are authentic, her communication patterns, her analytical approach even to inappropriate subjects, her formal politeness maintained despite shocking content.
But something in Daichi's presentation bothers me more with each word. The way he emphasizes having "watched her bloom" since childhood, his lingering description of her beauty, the satisfied undertones when discussing her alleged messages. A twenty-five-year-old man who's known my daughter since they were children, who's been positioned as her future husband for years, speaking of her with the possessive satisfaction of someone who believes she already belongs to him.
"Your discretion in bringing this to me personally is noted," I say quietly, studying his reaction. "As is your generous offer to overlook her inexperienced behavior."
"Of course, Kaito-san. Family honor demanded I address this privately before rumors spread further." He straightens with what appears to be earnest sincerity. "And honestly, despite the inappropriate nature of her communications, they revealed a young woman eager to learn, to please. With proper guidance, such enthusiasm becomes a wife's greatest virtue."
The way he speaks of wondering about her "aspects" as she matured, combined with his satisfaction at her alleged eagerness to "please," makes my vision blur with rage. This isn't thereaction of someone horrified by inappropriate messages. It's the satisfaction of a predator who's successfully manipulated his target.
"I would be honored to accept Mizuki-chan as my bride," he continues with growing confidence. "Having known her since we were children, having developed deep affection for the woman she's become, I can provide the structure and guidance she clearly craves. Marriage would allow me to properly channel her passionate nature."
Structure and guidance she craves. As if her alleged sexual messages were specifically requests for his dominance, his control. The possessive certainty in his voice—as if my daughter already belongs to him through years of patient cultivation.
"I'll speak with my daughter first," I reply with measured calm, watching his reaction carefully. "Family decisions require complete understanding of all circumstances."
"Of course," Daichi agrees, but disapointment flickers across his features. "Though perhaps discretion in your approach would serve everyone's interests. Direct confrontation might drive her to more desperate actions. Young women can become quite emotional when their private communications are exposed."
The suggestion carries implied threat disguised as concern. Handle this quietly, accept the marriage proposal, or risk worse revelations.
I rise from my desk, signaling the meeting's conclusion while my mind processes inconsistencies in his presentation. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Such matters require careful consideration."
He bows respectfully, but I catch the brief flash of satisfaction in his expression—believing he's successfully positioned himself as both savior and inevitable husband to my allegedly corrupted daughter.
"I hope we can resolve this matter quickly," he says at the door. "For everyone's sake. Mizuki-chan deserves protection from her own curiosity."
The moment the door closes behind Daichi, I sweep the photographs and screenshots into a pile with shaking hands. The image of my daughter's body or someone claiming to be my daughter, burns into my vision like acid. Whether real or fabricated, no father should have such images thrust before him, forced to examine evidence of his child's alleged sexual behavior.
