Page 59 of Kotori
The terror in her voice stops me cold. What he does to people who interfere. What kind of father puts that level of fear in his daughter's eyes when discussing education choices?
"I'm not going to let him destroy your future because of some outdated ideas about women's roles."
"You can't stop him." The words come out broken, hopeless. "No one can. This is who we are, Paige-sensei. This is what daughters in our world become, whether we want it or not."
But I can't accept that. Won't accept that this brilliant girl should have her dreams crushed because her father thinks traditional arts are more "appropriate" than justice and law.
Someone needs to fight for her. Someone needs to remind him that intelligence is a gift to be nurtured, not suppressed.
Even if that someone is a naive American teacher who doesn't fully understand the consequences of challenging yakuza authority.
IknockonKaito'sstudy door with hands that tremble slightly from anger and determination. Mizuki's tears are burned into my memory, along with her desperate plea not to interfere. But how can I stand by and watch a brilliant girl's future be sacrificed on the altar of traditional expectations?
Someone needs to advocate for her intellectual gifts. Someone needs to remind her father that crushing her dreams serves no one.
"Enter."
He's seated at his desk, papers spread before him in organized chaos. Some look like business contracts. Others appear to be written in careful Japanese characters I can't read. When he looks up, his dark eyes study my face with uncomfortable intensity.
"Paige-san." His voice is smooth, controlled. "You seem agitated."
Agitated. Such a mild word for the fury burning in my chest.
"We need to talk," I say, settling onto the cushion across from his desk without waiting for invitation. "About Mizuki."
His eyes narrow like when predator's attention sharpens when prey ventures too close.
"My daughter is not your concern."
"She's eighteen years old and crying in the library because you're forcing her to abandon everything she's passionate about." The words come out sharper than I intended. "That makes her my concern."
"Does it?" His voice remains perfectly controlled, but there's steel underneath. "And what, exactly, do you propose to do about academic decisions that don't involve you?"
"I propose you listen to her. Actually consider what she wants to study instead of deciding her future based on what you think is 'appropriate' for daughters." I lean forward, letting him see how serious I am. "She's brilliant at international law, Matsumoto-sama. She has real talent for understanding complex legal frameworks. Why would you waste that gift on flower arrangement?"
The silence that follows feels dangerous. He sets down his brush with deliberate precision, giving me his complete attention in a way that makes my skin prickle with warning.
"You've been discussing my daughter's academic arrangements with her."
It's not a question. It's an accusation delivered with quiet menace that makes me realize I may have just walked into something far more serious than an educational disagreement.
"I've been listening to a young woman who's heartbroken because the person who's supposed to support her dreams is crushing them instead."
The words hit their target. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and I see something dark flicker behind his controlled facade.
"Crushing her dreams." He tastes the words like poison. "You believe I'm harming my daughter by guiding her toward appropriate education."
"I believe you're wasting her potential because you're more concerned with tradition than with what actually makes her happy." My voice rises despite my efforts to stay calm. "She's not a doll to be dressed up. She's a brilliant young woman who could make a real difference in the world."
"Make a difference." The words come out dangerously quiet. "Tell me, Paige-san, what do you know about the realities facing young women in our world? About the expectations that keep families like mine respected? About the consequences of allowing personal preference to override cultural wisdom?"
"I know that telling an intelligent girl she can't study what interests her because it's 'too difficult to manage' is cruel. I know that forcing her into domestic arts when she dreams of international law is a waste of incredible talent." I stand up, pacing behind my cushion. "And I know that if you actually listened to her—really listened—you'd understand that supporting her ambitions would make her happier than forcing her into some predetermined mold."
When he finally speaks, his voice carries a weight that makes every word feel significant.
"You believe you understand my daughter better than I do."
"I believe I'm willing to consider that she might know what's best for her own intellectual development."
