Page 32 of Kotori

Paige

The classroom feels like a greenhouse in early July's relentless heat.

Even with the expensive air conditioning humming quietly, sweat beads at my temples as I watch Kohana struggling through her English composition.

Outside, cicadas scream their summer anthem, their persistent chorus a reminder that we're deep into the season now.

"Kohana-chan, try using 'despite' instead of 'although' here," I suggest, pointing to her neat handwriting. "It makes the contrast stronger."

She nods earnestly, her dark eyes serious as she carefully erases and rewrites the sentence. Of all three Matsumoto daughters, she's the most studious, the most eager to please.

It's been three weeks since I've seen their father. Three weeks since he departed for "business" in Seoul without explanation, leaving me here in this beautiful prison with his daughters and my confused emotions.

"Sensei." Mizuki's voice cuts through my thoughts. "We're preparing for Tanabata tomorrow. Will you help us with our tanzaku wishes?"

The question sounds innocent enough, but Mizuki never asks for anything without calculation. Mizuki has watched me with careful, assessing eyes since I arrived to teach her and her sisters. Not hostile exactly, but wary. Protective of her family and their traditions.

"Of course," I answer carefully. "I'd be honored."

Aya bounces in her seat, excitement overriding the heat. "Papa promised he'd be home for Tanabata! He never misses it, even when he has important yakuza business."

"Aya!" Mizuki hisses, shooting me an apologetic glance. "We don't use that word."

The slip makes me hide a smile. Three weeks of relative peace, of settling into a routine without Kaito's overwhelming presence, and sometimes I almost forget what he is. Almost.

"Sorry," Aya mumbles, looking embarrassed. "But he will be home. He promised."

"Then I'm sure he will be," I say, ignoring the way my pulse quickens at the thought of seeing him again. "What are you planning to wish for?"

Tanabata—the Star Festival celebrating the once-yearly meeting of star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi. Write your deepest wishes on colorful paper strips, hang them from bamboo branches, and pray they'll come true. As if wishes were that simple.

"I'm wishing for Papa to take us to Disney Sea!" Aya declares, academic pretenses abandoned entirely now. "And for Paige-sensei to stay with us forever and ever!"

The innocent declaration makes Mizuki's shoulders stiffen slightly. "Wishes are private, Aya-chan. You're not supposed to tell."

"What will you wish for, Mizuki-san?" I ask, trying to bridge the tension that's developed.

She meets my gaze directly, something challenging in her dark eyes. "For things to be the way they should be."

The loaded statement hangs in the air between us. She still hasn't forgiven me for suggesting she could choose her own path, for disrupting her carefully ordered world. Or perhaps she hasn't forgiven me for whatever she suspects is happening between her father and me.

"Sometimes what should be and what could be are different things," I say quietly. "Both have value."

Kohana looks up from her essay, eyes moving between us like she's watching a tennis match. "I'm wishing for everyone to be happy," she interjects, her voice soft but deliberate. "All of us together."

The simple wish makes my throat tighten unexpectedly. Happy. Together. As if we could ever be a normal family, as if there isn't violence and obsession and confusion tangled up in whatever this is.

"That's a lovely wish," I manage, gathering their papers to end the lesson before emotion betrays me. "Let's finish early today. It's too hot to concentrate."

Relief floods their faces as they pack up, summer freedom beckoning outside despite the oppressive heat. Hayashi appears at the doorway with perfect timing, bowing slightly.

"Williams-san," she says, her voice betraying nothing as always. "The girls are needed for kimono fittings for tomorrow's celebrations."

As they follow Hayashi from the room, Mizuki pauses at the door, turning back to me with an expression I can't quite read.

"Sensei," she says carefully. "Papa texted that his plane landed an hour ago."

The simple statement sends an electric current through my body. Here. He's here. After three weeks of trying to forget the taste of him, the feel of his hands in my hair, the way he made me abandon every scrap of shame I had.

"Thank you for telling me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.

She studies me for a moment longer. "He's different when you're around," she says finally. "I haven't decided if that's good or bad yet."

Before I can respond, she's gone, leaving me alone with the cicadas and my racing thoughts.

I'm in my room—at least he gave me that much, my own space with a lock I can control—when I hear the distinctive sound of the Mercedes on the gravel driveway. My fingers freeze on the book I've been pretending to read for the past hour, heart hammering against my ribs like it might break free.

Don't go to the window. Don't look. Don't give him the satisfaction.

But my traitorous body is already moving, drawing back the light summer curtain just enough to see the black car gliding to a stop at the front entrance. Security materializes from the shadows, the choreography of protection so familiar now that I barely notice it.

And then he's there, stepping out of the backseat with that trademark confidence that makes my mouth go dry.

Even after an international flight, Kaito Matsumoto looks immaculate—charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, dark hair slightly longer than before but still impeccably styled. Power and control in human form.

I let the curtain fall back into place, breathing too fast. Three weeks should have been enough to break whatever spell he's cast over me. Three weeks of peace, of focusing on his daughters, of trying to forget the way he claimed me with such absolute certainty.

Instead, one glimpse of him and I'm already wet.

I hate him. I hate that he's turned me into this—someone who craves the very person who threatens my independence. Someone who dreams about his hands while cursing his name.

The house erupts with excited voices as his daughters greet him. Even through the closed door, I can hear Aya's delighted squeals and the quieter tones of his older daughters. Family reunited. Father home at last.

I should join them. It would be the appropriate thing to do as their teacher, to welcome him back with proper respect. Instead, I stay frozen by the window, waiting. For what, I'm not sure.

The knock, when it comes twenty minutes later, is so soft I almost think I've imagined it. But then it comes again, three gentle taps that make my pulse skyrocket.

I consider not answering. Pretending to be asleep or in the bath or simply not wanting to see him. But that would only delay the inevitable, and I've never been a coward.

When I open the door, he's standing there in a simple black t-shirt and jeans that somehow look more dangerous than his suits.

I can see his irezumi tattoos on full display.

Dragons, and flowers, and wind bars. It's more intimate.

The casual clothes making him look almost normal, if not for the intensity in his dark eyes as they sweep over me.

"Paige." Just my name, without honorifics, without politeness. Like he owns it the same way he thinks he owns me.

"Matsumoto-sama." I keep my voice cool, formal. A reminder of boundaries he's already demolished. "Welcome back."

His lips curve in that slight smile that never quite reaches his eyes. "Not going to tell me you missed me?"

"I didn't."

"Liar." He doesn't move to enter, just watches me and makes my skin prickle with awareness. "My daughters seem well. You've taken good care of them."

"That's my job."

"And you do it well." He tilts his head slightly, studying me. "But that's not all you do well, is it, kotori?"

Heat floods my cheeks at the memory his words evoke. "Is there something you wanted?" I ask, hating how breathless I sound.

"Many things." His voice drops lower, intimate. "But for now, I came to tell you we'll be attending the Tanabata festival tomorrow night. The girls are excited to share it with you."

The way he says "share" makes it sound like something entirely different. "I'm aware. We were discussing their wishes today."

"And what will you wish for, I wonder?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just traces one finger along the doorframe, the casual gesture somehow loaded with meaning. "Wear the blue yukata Hayashi has prepared for you. It matches your eyes."

Of course he's already chosen my clothes. Of course he's already planned how I'll look on his arm, what I'll wear while he parades me around as his possession.

"Maybe I'll pick my own clothes," I say, chin lifting in defiance.

His smile widens slightly, humoring me before delivering his verdict. "You could. But you'll wear the blue yukata." Not a request. A certainty. "My girls want to see you in traditional dress."

Using his daughters as leverage. The manipulative bastard.

"Fine," I concede, hating the way victory flashes in his eyes. "For them."

"For them," he agrees, but we both know it's a lie. "Rest well, kotori. Tomorrow will be memorable."

He turns to leave but pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "Three weeks is a long time. I've thought about you every day."

Then he's gone, leaving me breathless and furious and aching with a need I don't want to acknowledge.