Page 51 of Kotori

Paige

I'm reviewing the picnic supplies Hayashi prepared when I hear the soft knock on my door.

"Come in," I call, expecting Hayashi with instructions about the family outing.

Instead, Mizuki steps through the doorway, wearing a simple sundress instead of her usual formal attire.

Her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, but there's something different in her posture. Less defensive, more uncertain.

"Paige-sensei," she begins, then stops, hands twisting in front of her. "I may I speak with you?"

"Of course." I set down the checklist I'm reviewing and give her my full attention. "What's on your mind?"

She takes a shaky breath, then another, like she's gathering courage for something difficult. "I owe you an apology. A real one."

My chest tightens with hope I'm afraid to feel. "Mizuki-chan..."

"Please." She holds up one hand, very much her father's daughter in that moment. "Let me say this properly." She moves to the center of the room and bows, not the casual nod she usually gives, but a deep, formal bow that speaks of genuine remorse and respect.

"I was cruel to you yesterday," she says, voice steady despite the emotion underneath.

"I used my mother's memory as a weapon to hurt someone who's only shown kindness to my family.

That was wrong. Dishonorable. Unworthy of how I was raised.

" She straightens, meeting my eyes directly.

"You didn't deserve my anger. You've done nothing but love us, and I was afraid of that love. Afraid it meant forgetting Mama."

"Oh." The sound comes out thick with emotion.

"Papa helped me understand that love doesn't work that way. That accepting you doesn't diminish what she gave us." Tears slide down her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. "I'd like to try again. If you'll let me."

I cross the room without thinking, gathering her into my arms. She goes stiff for a moment, then melts against me with a broken sob that sounds like four years of held grief finally finding release.

"There's nothing to forgive," I whisper against her hair. "I understand, Mizuki-chan. I understand why you needed to protect her memory."

"I called her Mama," she whispers against my shoulder. "Always Mama, never the formal Okaa-san. She said she liked it better because it sounded like love instead of duty."

"Tell me about her," I say softly. "What was she like?"

"Beautiful. Gentle but strong, she never backed down when something mattered to her.

" Mizuki pulls back slightly, eyes bright with tears and memory.

"She sang while she cooked. Terrible voice, but she didn't care.

And she always smelled like cherry blossoms because she loved the trees in the east garden. "

"She sounds wonderful."

"She was." Fresh tears spill over. "She would have liked you, I think. She always said the best mothers aren't the ones who give birth, but the ones who choose to love children who need them."

The words hit me hard. "She said that?"

"When Aya was born. She had trouble bonding at first, postpartum depression, though we didn't understand then.

She felt guilty for not feeling instantly connected.

" Mizuki's voice grows soft with memory.

"Papa found her crying one night, terrified she was a bad mother.

He told her that real mothers prove themselves through choice, not biology. "

Understanding floods through me. "And you remember that."

"Every day." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "That's how I know you're real. Because you chose us. You didn't have to love Aya and Kohana and even me when I was horrible to you. But you did anyway."

"Of course I did." I cup her face gently, the way I've learned calms her younger sisters. "You're remarkable, Mizuki-chan. Brilliant and strong and so much braver than you know."

"I don't feel brave."

I smooth her hair back from her face. "You just chose to apologize when you could have stayed angry. That takes incredible courage."

She leans into the touch like someone starved for maternal comfort. "Could I... would it be okay if I called you Paige-mama too? Like the others?"

The question comes out small and hopeful, and my heart swells so much it hurts. "I would love that more than anything."

"Paige-mama," she whispers, testing the words. "It feels right."

Twenty minutes later, we're piling into the armored Mercedes while Kaito supervises loading the picnic supplies.

He's traded his usual business attire for weekend casual, dark jeans and a crisp white cotton button-down that makes him look more approachable.

The long sleeves hide his tattoos completely, transforming him from intimidating clan leader to simply a handsome father planning a family outing.

The change is devastating to my composure. This relaxed version of him, hair slightly mussed and genuine smile lines crinkling his eyes as he listens to Aya's excitement, makes my chest tight with affection I wasn't prepared to feel.

"Everyone ready?" Kaito asks, sliding into the seat beside me. His hand finds mine immediately, fingers intertwining with casual possession that still makes my pulse quicken.

"Ready, Papa!" Aya declares. "This is going to be the best family day ever!"

"Because Paige-mama made sure the kitchen included all our favorite foods," Kohana adds with shy pleasure.

"And because Mizuki-nee is coming with us instead of being grumpy," Aya pipes up.

Mizuki flushes but doesn't snap back. "I'm looking forward to it," she says instead.

Kaito catches my eye in the side mirror, and I see satisfaction there, his family healing, coming together the way he always envisioned. "Then let's go make some memories."

The drive through Kyoto takes us past temples and traditional houses, modern city life blending seamlessly with ancient culture. Kaito points out landmarks to me while the girls chatter about their favorite spots, creating a running commentary that feels wonderfully normal.

"That's where Mama used to take us for ice cream," Aya says, pressing her face against the window. "They have flavors like green tea and sweet potato."

"We should stop there on the way home," I suggest. "If everyone wants to."

"Really?" Aya's eyes light up. "You'd want to try?"

"I'd want to try anything that makes you happy," I tell her honestly.

In the front seat, I catch Kaito's smile in the rearview mirror. The look he gives me is warm with approval, but there's something deeper underneath. Like watching me fall naturally into the maternal role brings him genuine pleasure.

Fushimi Inari Shrine rises above us in layers of vermillion torii gates that create tunnels of color up the mountainside.

Even on a busy Saturday, the crowds part naturally around Kaito's presence, not obviously, but with the subtle deference of people who recognize authority without knowing exactly why.

The heat hits us immediately despite the early hour, thick and oppressive even in the shade of the torii tunnels. I can already feel sweat beading at my hairline, and we haven't even started climbing.

"Can we climb all the way to the top?" Aya asks, staring up at the path that disappears into green forest, already tugging at her shirt.

"If you think your little legs can make it," Mizuki teases gently, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "It's over an hour of walking. In this heat."

"I can do it! Paige-mama will help me if I get tired, right?"

"Of course, sweetheart." I adjust the small backpack with water and snacks, grateful Hayashi insisted on extra bottles. "We'll take lots of breaks."

Kohana falls into step beside me as we begin the climb. "The gates are donated by businesses and families who want blessings," she explains with quiet pride in her knowledge. "Some are hundreds of years old."

"It's beautiful," I say, watching the light filter through red wood to create patterns on the stone path.

"Papa brought us here after Mama died," she continues softly. "To pray for her spirit. He said the mountain would help carry our sadness up to heaven."

"Did it help?"

"A little." She glances at her father, walking ahead with Aya chattering at his side. "He cried that day. The only time I ever saw him cry."

The image hits me unexpectedly. Kaito, the controlled man who commands absolute obedience, grieving openly for his lost wife while trying to comfort his children. The contradictions in his character continue to surprise me.

"He still misses her," Kohana says with the perceptiveness of a thirteen-year-old who notices everything. "But he's happier now. Since you came."

"Good," I whisper, emotion thick in my throat. "I want him to be happy."

We climb in the oppressive July heat, stopping frequently for water breaks and to escape into whatever shade the torii gates provide. Even with the frequent pauses, my shirt sticks to my back with perspiration, and Aya's cheeks are flushed pink despite the sun hat Kaito insisted she wear.

"This heat is brutal," Mizuki pants, fanning herself with her hand as we pause under a particularly large gate.

Ahead of us, Kaito lifts Aya onto his shoulders for the steeper sections, and I catch my breath for an entirely different reason.

His white cotton shirt has begun to cling to his back with sweat, the fabric becoming translucent enough that I can make out the dark lines of ink underneath.

The dragon's tail or the wind bars that flow down his arms. I can't tell exactly, but the suggestion of his hidden tattoos visible through damp fabric makes my mouth go dry.

He turns to check on our progress, and I quickly look away, heat flooding my cheeks that has nothing to do with the summer sun.

About a third of the way up, we encounter a small side shrine where families often stop to make offerings. Aya immediately pulls me toward it, chattering excitedly about the proper protocols.