Page 31 of Kotori
"Thank you," I say quietly. "That was incredible."
"You honored the meal with proper attention," he replies. "Not everyone has such receptiveness to new experiences. Tell me," he continues, lifting his sake cup, "what did you think of today's lesson with my daughters?"
The question catches me off guard. "I... there was some disagreement about—"
"Mizuki spoke with me," he interrupts smoothly. "She was quite upset. Something about American teachers overstepping boundaries, encouraging inappropriate dreams."
My stomach clenches. "I was just trying to help them think about their futures."
"Their futures are not uncertain, Paige-san. They have roles to fulfill, responsibilities to embrace. Duty that transcends personal desire." His voice remains perfectly controlled, but something cold enters his tone. "I'm curious why you felt qualified to counsel them otherwise."
"I didn't mean to overstep. I just thought—"
"You thought." He sets down his cup with deliberate precision. "Tell me, what do you know about duty? About sacrifice for something larger than yourself?"
The questions hit exactly where I'm most vulnerable. "I know that I came here to help."
"You came here because you were running away," he says quietly. "From a man who betrayed you. From a life that didn't turn out as you'd planned. And now you want to teach my daughters to run from theirs?"
"That's not what I was doing."
He leans forward slightly, his dark eyes holding mine. "You encouraged them to pursue selfish dreams, to prioritize individual happiness over family obligation. Very American. Very destructive."
His proximity during the meal, the way he fed me, the intimacy of the evening—suddenly it all feels dangerous instead of seductive. I push back from the table slightly, needing space to think clearly. "I should go," I say, starting to rise. "This conversation is getting too personal."
"Sit down."
The command stops me halfway to standing. When I don't immediately comply, his expression darkens.
"You came to my country. Accepted my employment. Honored you with the finest meal my family can offer." His voice drops to something quietly dangerous. "And now you insult me by implying this conversation is inappropriate?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Sit. Down."
This time the authority in his voice makes my legs buckle almost involuntarily. I sink back onto the silk cushion, heart hammering as he towers over me.
"In Japan, we have a concept called 'reading the air'—understanding unspoken social cues, responding with proper respect." His tone is perfectly controlled, but there's steel underneath. "You have failed dramatically."
Shame burns in my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand."
"Clearly." He settles back into his position across from me, but the warmth from earlier has vanished completely. "You think dinner conversation about my daughters' future is inappropriate? You think expressing concern for their well-being crosses some boundary?"
"I just thought—"
"You thought wrong." He pours himself sake with deliberate precision, not offering me any. "My daughters have already lost one woman who claimed to care about their futures," he says, his voice dropping to something low and dangerous. "Their mother died protecting them. Ensuring they would have futures at all."
The statement is sharp. Died protecting them. Not a car accident or illness, but something violent. Somethingintentional.
"I didn't—" I start, but he cuts me off with a sharp gesture.
"Tomorrow you will join me for a morning walk through our family gardens. Five AM. Traditional dress will be provided." His tone brooks no argument. "You will learn about this family'shistory, about the weight of obligation, about the consequences of encouraging others to abandon their duty."
Five AM. A morning walk through the family gardens.
"And Paige-san?" He meets my eyes with cold intensity. "When you understand what this family sacrifices to maintain our position, perhaps you'll be more thoughtful about the advice you give my daughters."
The dismissal is clear.
