Page 28 of Kotori

Paige

I find Mizuki in the library, curled in the window seat with tears streaming down her face.

She's trying to hide it, of course—eighteen years of training in perfect composure doesn't disappear just because your world is crumbling.

But her shoulders shake with suppressed sobs, and the international law textbook in her lap is forgotten.

"Mizuki-chan?" I slide the door closed behind me, giving us privacy. "What's wrong?"

She wipes her eyes quickly, trying to reassemble her mask of calm authority. "Nothing, Paige-sensei. Just reading."

"That's obviously not true." I settle onto the cushion beside her, close enough to offer comfort but not so close as to trap her. "Talk to me."

For a moment, she almost does. I see the words gathering behind her dark eyes, the desperate need to tell someone how scared she is, how trapped she feels. Then the walls slam back up, and she's Kaito's perfect daughter again.

"It's not appropriate to burden you with family matters," she says with careful politeness.

Family matters. Code for "things you wouldn't understand" or "things that aren't your business" or "things that happen to daughters in this world whether they want them or not."

"Try me," I say gently.

She stares out the window for a long moment, watching summer sunlight filter through ancient maple trees. When she finally speaks, her voice is trembling. "Otou-sama talked to me about my course selections for university next year."

My stomach clenches with premonition. "What did he say?"

"That international law is impractical for someone in my position. That I should focus on more suitable subjects." She clutches the textbook tighter, knuckles white against the cover. "Traditional arts. Cultural preservation. Domestic management."

Domestic management. Like she's being trained to run a household instead of change the world.

"How do you feel about that?"

Her laugh is bitter, broken. "How I feel is irrelevant. Just flower arrangement and tea ceremony and learning to be a proper Japanese daughter."

The defeat in her voice makes my chest ache. "Mizuki-chan, you're brilliant at legal studies."

"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 I wasn'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."

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.

I knock on Kaito's study 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?"