Page 58 of Kotori
"Was," she interrupts. "Past tense. Because apparently understanding global justice makes women 'difficult to manage.'" Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. "Those were his exact words, Paige-sensei. Difficult to manage. Like I'm livestock that needs to be kept docile."
Rage builds in my chest like wildfire. "He said that to you?"
"Not to me. To the admissions advisor. I heard him on the phone when I went to his study for our weekly meeting." Her voice cracks with humiliation. "Discussing my future like Iwasn't even a person. Just a problem to be solved through better education."
"What about university abroad? Oxford has that amazing international law program you researched."
"Absolutely forbidden." The words come out flat, final. "Foreign universities are 'unnecessary exposure to corrupting influences.' I'm to stay local, study appropriate subjects, and prepare for my role in the family business."
My blood runs cold. "What role in the family business?"
She meets my eyes with devastating directness. "The same role every oyabun's daughter plays eventually. Managing cultural affairs. Representing the family at traditional functions. Marrying well for alliance purposes." Her hands clench in her lap. "Being decorative and obedient while men make the important decisions."
"That's not who you are," I say fiercely. "You're not decorative or obedient. You're intelligent and passionate and beautiful and capable of anything you set your mind to."
"It doesn't matter what I'm capable of." She pulls away from my attempted comfort, wrapping arms around her knees. "It matters what's expected. What's appropriate. What serves the family's interests better than my selfish dreams."
Selfish dreams. As if wanting to use her brilliant mind is somehow self-indulgent.
"Since when is pursuing justice selfish?"
"Since I was born into this family." Her voice drops to something that sounds like exhaustion. "Do you know what Otou-sama told me yesterday? That individual fulfillment is a concept that weakens family bonds. That my desire to study law proves I've been influenced by foreign ideas that make me unsuitable for traditional responsibilities."
The casual cruelty makes me want to scream. "Your father loves you. Surely he wants you to be happy—"
"He wants me to be useful. Compliant. A credit to the family name." She gestures toward the textbook with bitter finality. "This was the last international law text I'll ever be allowed to study."
"What if you refused? What if you told him you want to study what interests you?"
The look she gives me is pure pity. "You don't understand how this works, do you? Daughters don't refuse in families like mine. We accept, we adapt, we smile gracefully while our dreams get redirected toward more appropriate goals."
"But you're not just any daughter. You're his heir."
"I'm his eldest daughter," she corrects sharply. "There's a difference. Women cannot be heirs in the yakuza world. Ever. It doesn't matter how capable or intelligent we are. Heirs make decisions. Daughters implement them or are used as alliance pieces. And the decisions have already been made about what kind of woman I'm going to become."
The despair in her voice breaks something inside me. This brilliant girl, reduced to a vessel for other people's expectations. This young woman with fire and intelligence and dreams, being systematically molded into someone else's vision of appropriateness.
"What if someone talked to him? Explained how much this is hurting you?"
"Who? You?" She almost laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Paige-sensei, you've been here less than a month. You don't know him. You don't understand what he's like when someone questions his decisions about family matters."
There's fear in her voice now, not just sadness, but actual fear of her father's reaction to disobedience.
"I'm not afraid of your father," I lie.
"You should be." The words come out flat, certain. "Everyone should be. Especially people who interfere with his plans for his daughters."
The warning in her tone makes my blood run cold. But I can't just stand by and watch her dreams get crushed for the sake of "traditional responsibilities."
"Mizuki-chan, listen to me." I lean forward, catching her hands. "Your dreams matter. Your intelligence matters. You have the right to pursue what makes you passionate, what uses your gifts. Maybe it's time someone reminded your father that his daughter's happiness should matter more than family tradition."
The words hang in the air like a thrown gauntlet. Mizuki goes very still, and I realize I've crossed some invisible line. Suggested something that feels revolutionary and terrifying in equal measure.
"You can't," she whispers. "Paige-sensei, you can't talk to him about this. Promise me you won't."
"Why not? If I explain how much this means to you—"
"You don't understand." Her grip on my arm is painful. "You don't know what he's like when someone questions his authority about family matters. What he does to people who interfere with his plans."
