Page 118 of Kotori
The political maneuvering begins before the grief has time to settle. Hiroshi has been waiting for exactly this kind of opportunity. He's questioning my leadership through carefully orchestrated whispers, positioning himself as guardian of traditional values while I supposedly grew soft through foreign influence. Daichi's death hands him the ammunition he's needed to challenge my authority directly.
"Hiroshi's accusations?"
"That you murdered an innocent young man over fabricated evidence. That your American woman has corrupted your judgment beyond repair. That the family requires new leadership before your personal obsessions destroy everything our ancestors built."
The political sophistication is predictable, if distasteful. Frame my protection of Mizuki as evidence of weakness, my relationship with Paige as proof of compromised authority. Use traditional honor codes to justify rebellion against the man who embodies those codes.
But he's miscalculated. Because this time, I have what I didn't have during previous political skirmishes.
Partnership.
"Preparations?"
"Full security detail activated. Compound locked down. All family members secured until this resolves." His voice drops to business coldness. "And our people positioned throughout the city, ready to demonstrate why challenging Matsumoto authority carries permanent consequences."
"Good. But keep them invisible." I turn from the window, already calculating angles. "Send word to Sho-san. Tell him he's welcome here whenever he's ready. Alone."
Shoarrivesanhourbefore the council meeting, his usual commanding presence diminished by grief and shame. The man who's served my family for thirty years looks aged a decade overnight, shoulders bowed under the weight of what his son has done.
He enters my study and immediately drops to his knees in formal dogeza, forehead pressed to expensive wood.
"Oyabun," he says, voice breaking. "I have failed you in the most unforgivable way. My son... what he did to Mizuki-chan..." The words dissolve into raw anguish. "I had no knowledge of his true nature. No idea he was capable of such dishonor."
The genuine anguish in his voice reinforces what I already suspected. Sho is innocent of his son's crimes. But innocence doesn't absolve negligence.
"Rise, Sho-san."
He lifts his head, tears streaming down weathered cheeks. "I offer my life in payment for his crimes. Seppuku, witnessed by the council, to restore honor to your family and mine."
"That would be convenient for you." My voice carries no warmth. "A clean death to escape the mess your negligence created." He flinches. "Thirty years of service," I continue with cold precision. "Thirty years of claiming to understand honor, loyalty, family protection. And you raised achikanwho hunted my daughter like prey." I move behind my desk, maintaining the barrier of authority between us. "Tell me what you knew of his activities."
Sho remains on his knees, struggling to compose himself. "I knew about the bars. The joshi kosei places in Shibuya." Shamecolors his voice. "I told myself it was harmless—a young man clinging to youth, that he'd grow out of it when he found a proper wife. But this," His voice breaks completely. "How did I not see that he was capable of this? That he would hunt an innocent child while I believed him simply immature?"
"Because you chose not to see. You knew your son paid to sit with schoolgirls in uniforms. You knew he fetishized innocence, sought out the youngest legal targets available. And you convinced yourself it was harmless because acknowledging the truth would have required difficult action."
His face crumples with the weight of recognition.
"Thirty years of serving this family, and when it mattered most—when your son was escalating from paid fantasy to real predation—you chose willful blindness over protection." I lean forward, voice dropping to lethal quiet. "My daughter suffered psychological torture because you didn't want to confront what your boy really was. Your grief for your son is natural. Your guilt is deserved." I lean back in my chair, maintaining the distance. "But don't mistake my allowing you to live as forgiveness. You failed in the most fundamental duty a man has: knowing what kind of monster lives under his own roof."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with implications neither of us can ignore.
"Your service continues because I need experienced men, not because you've earned redemption." My voice carries the weight of absolute authority. "But understand this: one more failure of judgment, one more moment of willful blindness when family safety is at stake, and your thirty years of loyalty becomes irrelevant."
Understanding settles in his expression, not peace, but the beginning of comprehension that survival requires more than grief. "The council meeting?"
"Hiroshi is using your son's death to challenge my authority. Claims I acted rashly, that my judgment is compromised." I study his broken posture. "What do you need from me?"
The loyalty that's defined our relationship for three decades hardens his grief into resolve. "What do you need from me?"
"The truth. When the time comes, tell them what kind of man your son really was."
Thecouncilchamberfeelscharged with tension when I arrive.
Seven advisors arranged around the polished table, their faces carrying the careful neutrality of men who've chosen sides but aren't yet ready to reveal allegiances. Hiroshi sits prominently at the far end, his expression combining manufactured outrage with political opportunity. Sho sits separately, grief and shame radiating from him like heat.
"Honored advisors," I begin, settling into my chair at the head of the table. "I understand there are concerns requiring discussion."
"Concerns." Hiroshi's voice carries rehearsed indignation. "A young man lies dead, murdered in his own bed. Daichi Shuichi. A promising member of our organization, son of our trusted Sho-san. He was cut down by violence that serves nothing except personal vengeance."
