Page 84 of Kotori
Rules written in blood and enforced without hesitation.
My phone buzzes with a message from Takeshi: "Cleanup handled. Body disposal arranged. Message received by all witnesses."
Perfect. Clean resolution with maximum educational value and permanent consequences.
I check my appearance in the rearview mirror, ensuring no evidence of the afternoon's execution remains visible. A small blood spatter on my collar—easily explained as a shaving accident. Hair perfectly styled. The image of a successful businessman returning from cultural appreciation rather than delivering final justice.
The main house glows with warm light when I enter, architecture embracing me like a sanctuary. Somewhere in the city, mortuary professionals work to make Sato-san's corpse disappear completely. Here, family dinner waits with my daughters' laughter and carefully prepared food and the gentle rhythms of domestic harmony.
Two worlds. One man equally comfortable delivering death and receiving daughters' kisses.
I pause at the shrine to offer brief gratitude for the wisdom to understand when mercy has been exhausted and justicedemands finality. My late father's spirit would understand. Some lessons can only be taught once, and some students never graduate.
Tonight I'll sit with my daughters and listen to their stories about lessons and friendships and small triumphs. Tomorrow morning I'll receive reports about how today's education has affected clan politics and territorial respect.
Both conversations will receive my complete attention and careful consideration.
Because that's what sixteen generations of leadership has taught me—strength and gentleness aren't opposites. They're tools in the same arsenal, applied with equal precision depending on what the situation demands. But whatever it requires, I'll be ready. Calm, controlled, and absolutely certain about what serves my family's interests.
Just like my ancestors before me.
Just like my descendants will be after me.
Some heritage is worth preserving at any cost.
22
Paige
Twodays.I'vehadtwo days to process what happened, and all I've done is replay every moment in excruciating detail. The way he'd pressed me against that tree. How my body had opened for him without hesitation. The sound I'd made when he'd filled me: desperate, grateful, like I'd been starving for his cock.
God, I'm disgusting.Is the first thought I have when I wake up.
I stumble to the mirror on unsteady legs, and my reflection makes me sick. I look the same. There's no visible marks from our encounter, no obvious signs of my moral collapse. I can see it in my own eyes: the knowledge of what I am. What I've become.
A woman who gets wet for the man who kidnapped her. Who begs for the touch of someone who owns her like property.
"Fucking pathetic," I whisper to my reflection, gripping the edge of the vanity until my knuckles turn white.
"Williams-san?" Hayashi's voice carries through the door. "The morning lessons await."
Morning lessons. I have to teach his daughters. I have to stand in front of three intelligent girls and pretend I'm a competent adult while the memory of their father's cum running down my thighs burns in my mind. While I fight the shameful knowledge that the sick, twisted part of me wants it to happen again.
"Coming," I call back, proud that my voice only shakes a little.
I choose my outfit, trying to hide what I've become from myself as much as anyone else. Conservative blouse, long sleeves, modest skirt. Foundation to hide the dark circles under my eyes from two nights of restless, shame-filled dreams. Everything carefully arranged to project normalcy when nothing about me is normal anymore.
In the mirror, I look like a woman who slept badly. No one would guess I spent the night before last crying with relief and self-hatred after coming on my captor's cock. After telling him I belonged to him and feeling my soul settle into place when he claimed me.
The walk to the lesson room feels endless. Every step reminds me of that night: how my legs had trembled afterward, how he'd straightened my yukata with such careful attention, how his seed had leaked out of me during the entire car ride home while I sat next to him like nothing had happened.
Like I hadn't just surrendered everything I thought I was.
"Good morning, Paige-sensei," Aya chirps as the girls file in for their English practice. "You look sleepy today!"
Sleepy. If only she knew what's been keeping me awake.
"I haven't been sleeping well," I admit, settling carefully onto my cushion. The normalcy of teaching feels surreal after the psychological war I've been fighting with myself.
