Page 111 of Kotori
"We've known each other since we were children. Our families have been discussing potential marriage arrangements since I turned sixteen." She draws her knees up, making herself smaller. "But it changed at this summer's Tanabata festival. He said I'd grown into such a beautiful woman, that he'd been watching me mature and waiting for the right time to guide me properly."
The classic predator playbook. Positioning himself as patient and respectful while admitting he'd been watching her develop. My skin crawls.
"What did he want from you?"
"Questions at first. About my fears, my dreams. Whether I understood what would be expected of me as a wife." A bitter laugh escapes her. "He seemed so concerned with my education, my preparation. Said understanding my body was important for marriage. That curiosity was natural. Healthy."
I want to scream. This predator spent years positioning himself as her inevitable husband, then used that assumed authority to groom her.
"He said since we'd likely be married anyway, it was practical to help me learn. That sending pictures would help me understand my own beauty, build confidence for our wedding night." She's shaking now. "When I hesitated, he said he was trying to protect my reputation. That it was better to learn with someone who cared about me than to be naive and embarrass myself later. He said other men might take advantage of my inexperience, but he wanted to keep me safe. That this way, I'd be confident and prepared instead of scared and ashamed." Her voice drops to a whisper. "One picture became more. Always more. But he said I was being mature, preparing properly. That this was normal between engaged couples."
The twisted logic makes me sick. He used their childhood connection and assumed future to normalize increasinglyinappropriate requests, then lied about having her father's blessing.
"He says Otou-san is just waiting for the right time to announce it formally," she continues, voice breaking. "That the family discussions have been positive, but they want to make sure I'm ready to be a proper wife first."
"Why haven't you told your father what's been happening?" I ask gently.
Her face crumples with fresh shame. "Daichi-sempai said Otou-san wouldn't understand. That fathers get uncomfortable discussing such intimate preparations with their daughters." She wipes her eyes roughly. "He said Otou-san trusted him to guide me properly, that bringing these lessons to his attention would only embarrass him and make him think I wasn't mature enough for marriage."
Another layer of manipulation. Isolating her from her primary protector.
"But Otou-san..." Her voice breaks again. "What if he thinks I should have known better? What if he's disappointed in me for being so stupid?" The raw fear in her voice, terror of disappointing the father she adores, makes my chest ache.
"He's going to protect you," I say fiercely. "Whatever else happens, he's going to make sure you're safe."
"Will you stay with me? When I tell him?"
"Of course." The answer comes from the deepest part of me, the part that would do anything to shield this girl from more pain. "We'll face this together."
She nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. For a moment, we sit in silence, the weight of what she's revealed settling between us. "I thought I was doing everything right," she whispers finally. "I thought I was being the daughter he wanted, preparing to be the wife I was supposed to be."
"You were being manipulated by someone who knew exactly how to exploit your trust," I tell her firmly. "This isn't about what kind of daughter you are. This is about a predator who targeted you."
She looks at me with desperate hope, like she's been drowning and I've thrown her a lifeline. "Do you really believe that?"
"I know it," I say. "Come on, let's go set the record straight."
31
Kaito
I'vebeenwaitingsincethe dinner disaster three hours ago, Takeshi's technical analysis burning like acid in my mind. Every screenshot authentic. Every timestamp verified. Every piece of digital evidence confirming that my eighteen-year-old daughter had indeed sent explicit messages and photographs to a twenty-five-year-old man.
His report sits on my desk like an indictment: "No evidence of digital manipulation. Messages sent from target device. Metadata confirms authenticity. All communications originated from household IP address." My daughter's guilt, verified by the most sophisticated forensic analysis available. The shame I felt during dinner, the cold disappointment, the way I couldn't bear to look at her without seeing corruption where innocence should be. All justified by technical evidence that seemed unshakeable.
A knock interrupts my anger.
"Enter."
Paige steps through the doorway first, her face pale but determined. Behind her, Mizuki follows with the hesitant steps of someone approaching execution. My daughter's eyes are red-rimmed, swollen from tears, but there's something different in her posture. Less defeat. More resolution.
Whatever conversation they've had has changed something.
"Otou-san." Mizuki's voice wavers, but she doesn't flee. "I need to tell you the truth about Daichi-sempai. About what really happened."
I gesture to the chairs across from my desk with controlled movements, every muscle in my body coiled with barely restrained tension. They settle together, Paige's protective instincts creating subtle barriers around my daughter while Mizuki gathers courage for whatever confession is about to reshape our reality.
"I'm listening." The words emerge like shards of ice.
