Page 98 of Kotori
Everything about her bearing screams resentment despite the fear underneath. Dark eyes that mirror my own hold stubborndefiance, Akira's gentle features arranged in expressions of teenage rebellion that would shatter her mother's heart. Behind her, I catch sight of a framed photo on her nightstand. The four of us from two summers ago, Akira's arm around Mizuki's shoulders, both of them laughing at something Aya had said. The image serves as both comfort and weapon in her private war against change.
"Paige-san offered you kindness, understanding, and the promise of maternal love you claim to miss so desperately. Your response was calculated cruelty designed to cause maximum emotional damage." I lean forward slightly, letting her see the disappointment that cuts deeper than anger. "You deliberately wounded someone who's chosen to care for you, in front of your younger sisters who needed to see family unity."
"She's not our mother," Mizuki says quietly, but the words lack yesterday's fire.
"No. She's not." I settle back, studying her face with clinical attention. "Akira was your mother. Beautiful, intelligent, strong enough to challenge me when necessary, wise enough to know when submission served us both. She died protecting this family, protecting you specifically, and her memory deserves honor, not weaponization."
Mizuki's eyes fill with tears she refuses to let fall. "Then why?"
"Because honoring the dead doesn't require rejecting the living." Steel enters my voice. "Because your mother would be ashamed to see you use her memory as a blade against someone trying to love her children."
The words hit their target. She flinches like I've struck her, understanding finally penetrating her defensive wall of grief and pride.
"Paige-san doesn't seek to replace your mother. She seeks to continue what Akira began—ensuring you grow into theextraordinary woman you're capable of becoming. Instead, you choose to wound her with the very loss you claim to protect."
"I didn't mean to."
"You meant exactly what you said. You calculated the words most likely to cause pain and delivered them." I begin pacing slowly around her position, letting her feel the weight of my attention, my authority, my growing displeasure. "The question is why. Why hurt someone who wants nothing but your happiness?"
She's crying openly now, composure cracking under pressure designed to expose truth. "Because it's not fair! Because she gets to be alive and happy and perfect while Mama is dead. Because everyone loves her and forgets."
"Forgets what? That we lost someone irreplaceable? That your mother's absence creates wounds that never fully heal?" I stop directly behind her, hands settling on her shoulders with gentle firmness. "Or do you think we're forbidden from finding new happiness because grief should consume us forever?"
Her sobs come harder now, shoulders shaking under my touch. The defensive walls she's built around her pain are finally crumbling, exposing the terrified child underneath the rebellious teenager.
"I miss her," she whispers brokenly. "I miss her so much, and watching Aya and Kohana love someone else makes it feel like she never mattered."
"Ah." Understanding floods through me, cold and sharp. "You think love is finite. That your sisters caring for Paige diminishes what they felt for your mother."
She nods miserably, and I move around to kneel before her, forcing eye contact with paternal authority that brooks no escape.
"Listen carefully, Mizuki-chan. Love multiplies, it doesn't divide." My hands frame her face, thumbs wiping away tearswith the gentleness I reserve for moments when strength must be balanced with compassion. "Your mother lives in every kind word you speak, every moment of courage you show, every time you protect what matters to you."
"But if we accept someone else—"
"We expand the love she gave us. We use her gift to create new bonds that make this family stronger." I hold her gaze steadily, letting her see absolute certainty. "Paige-san doesn't threaten your mother's memory. She honors it by loving the children Akira died to protect."
The logic penetrates slowly, understanding dawning in dark eyes that hold too much pain for someone so young. But grief and reason rarely cooperate, and I can see her struggling with acceptance.
"I'm afraid," she admits in the smallest voice. "Afraid that if I love her too, Mama will disappear completely."
The admission breaks something in my chest. Four years. Four years this child has carried that fear alone, building walls around her heart to preserve what she thought would otherwise be lost.
"Your mother will disappear only if you let fear consume you instead of opening your heart to the gifts she left behind." I lean closer, voice dropping to something intimate and certain. "Akira lives in your intelligence, your strength, your capacity for fierce love. Denying yourself that capacity doesn't honor her. It wastes her sacrifice."
She's listening now. But understanding and compliance aren't the same thing, and yesterday's disrespect still requires correction.
"Now," I say, releasing her face and settling back into formal position, "we address the immediate problem. You showed cruelty to someone under my protection. You disrupted family harmony through selfish emotional display. You demonstrated weakness that threatens everything this family represents."
Her spine straightens with alarm as my tone shifts from gentle father to commanding authority. The change is deliberate, designed to remind her that understanding her pain doesn't excuse the consequences of her actions.
"In the outside world, such disrespect would carry severe penalties. Fortunately for you, family discipline allows for education rather than punishment." I meet her eyes with implacable certainty. "You will apologize to Paige-san. Properly, sincerely, with acknowledgment of your mistake and commitment to better behavior."
"Otou-san—"
"Today. Before the family outing your sisters are planning. You will demonstrate the respect that should have been shown yesterday, and you will participate in family activities with grace that honors your upbringing."
The command is absolute, delivered with quiet authority that makes grown yakuza kneel without hesitation. But Mizuki is my daughter, not my subordinate, and the approach requires adjustment for maximum effectiveness.
