Page 28 of Kotori
God, what have I done? I came in here thinking I could inspire them, and instead I upset the family dynamic, made Mizuki feel attacked, and scared the younger girls.
"I should apologize to her," I say.
"She won't listen right now," Kohana says matter-of-factly. "When Mizuki-nee gets angry, she needs space. But..." She hesitates. "She's not really angry at you. She's angry at the truth."
Before I can ask what she means, Aya tugs on my sleeve. "Paige-sensei? Are you going to leave because Mizuki-nee was mean?"
The innocent question hits me like a freight train. "No, sweetheart. I'm not leaving."
"Promise?"
I look into her worried face, then at Kohana's carefully neutral expression that doesn't quite hide her own fear of abandonment.These girls have lost people before. They're terrified of getting attached to someone else who might disappear.
"I promise," I say, though the words feel heavier than they should. "I'm not going anywhere."
Aya throws her arms around me in a fierce hug, and over her head, I catch Kohana's gaze. There's a sadness, a wisdom beyond her years in her eyes that makes me wonder what these children have endured.
"Your mother," I begin carefully, watching their reactions. "Do you ever talk about her?"
Aya freezes in my arms, and Kohana's expression shutters completely.
"No," Kohana says quietly. "We don't."
"Papa says it makes him sad," Aya whispers against my shoulder. "And Mizuki-nee gets really angry if we ask."
I want to press further, to understand the shadow that seems to hang over this family, but something in Kohana's rigid posture warns me against it. This isn't the time.
"I understand," I say gently, stroking Aya's hair. "Maybe someday you can tell me about her, when you're ready."
Kohana gives me a barely perceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment that I've respected their boundary.
Iapproachthediningroom at seven o'clock, expecting to find the girls already seated, chattering about their day while Hayashi arranges the evening meal. Instead, I find empty corridors and silence that feels heavy with intention.
The traditional dining room where we've eaten every night this week is dark, sliding doors closed. Confusion twists in my stomach. Did I misunderstand the dinner arrangement?
Footsteps echo behind me, measured and familiar.
"This way, Paige-san."
I turn to find Kaito approaching from the opposite direction, wearing a charcoal kimono that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad and his dark eyes burn with quiet intensity. After a week of his penetrating gaze across the dinner table, of feeling him watch me through the cameras at night, my body responds instantly to his presence.
"Where are the girls?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Busy." He offers no further explanation. His tone is perfectly reasonable, but there's satisfaction underneath that makes my pulse quicken. "Tonight, you dine with me. Privately."
The word "privately" hangs between us like a challenge. I should object. Should insist that family dinners include the family, that I'm here for the children, not for whatever this is becoming.
Instead, I hear myself say, "Of course, Matsumoto-sama."
His smile is absolutely devastating. "Follow me."
He leads me through corridors I haven't seen before, deeper into the private wing of the compound. These halls feel more intimate—narrower, with lower ceilings and paper screens that filter light into something golden and secretive. Personal space rather than public areas.
We stop before sliding doors painted with delicate cherry blossoms. When he opens them, my breath catches.
The room beyond is smaller than the formal dining space, with low tables surrounded by silk cushions in rich burgundy and gold. Lamplight creates pools of warm illumination while shadows dance in the corners. Everything speaks of intimacy,privacy, the kind of setting where secrets are shared and boundaries dissolve.
"My personal dining room," he says, watching my reaction. "For occasions requiring discretion."
