Page 60 of Kotori

Kaito

The news arrives at sunrise, delivered by a trembling messenger who won't meet my eyes.

I study the young man from my study window as dawn breaks over Kyoto's ancient rooflines, already knowing what message he carries. The timing is expected.

Takeshi appears at my shoulder, his expression grim with news I've been anticipating since I left that bastard's apartment.

"They found him," he reports quietly. "Sho-san's people discovered the body at six this morning. Professional work, no evidence."

Of course not. I wanted them to know justice had been delivered, but proof was another matter entirely. Some lessons require careful acknowledgment.

"Sho's response?"

"Devastated. Confused. He's requesting immediate audience." Takeshi's voice carries unusual tension. "But Hiroshi-san is already moving, calling emergency council meeting for ten this morning. Mandatory attendance for all senior advisors."

The political maneuvering begins before the grief has time to settle.

Hiroshi has been waiting for exactly this kind of opportunity.

He's questioning my leadership through carefully orchestrated whispers, positioning himself as guardian of traditional values while I supposedly grew soft through foreign influence.

Daichi's death hands him the ammunition he's needed to challenge my authority directly.

"Hiroshi's accusations?"

"That you murdered an innocent young man over fabricated evidence. That your American woman has corrupted your judgment beyond repair. That the family requires new leadership before your personal obsessions destroy everything our ancestors built."

The political sophistication is predictable, if distasteful. Frame my protection of Mizuki as evidence of weakness, my relationship with Paige as proof of compromised authority. Use traditional honor codes to justify rebellion against the man who embodies those codes.

But he's miscalculated. Because this time, I have what I didn't have during previous political skirmishes.

Partnership.

"Preparations?"

"Full security detail activated. Compound locked down. All family members secured until this resolves." His voice drops to business coldness. "And our people positioned throughout the city, ready to demonstrate why challenging Matsumoto authority carries permanent consequences."

"Good. But keep them invisible." I turn from the window, already calculating angles. "Send word to Sho-san. Tell him he's welcome here whenever he's ready. Alone."

Sho arrives an hour before the council meeting, his usual commanding presence diminished by grief and shame. The man who's served my family for thirty years looks aged a decade overnight, shoulders bowed under the weight of what his son has done.

He enters my study and immediately drops to his knees in formal dogeza, forehead pressed to expensive wood.

"Oyabun," he says, voice breaking. "I have failed you in the most unforgivable way. My son... what he did to Mizuki-chan..." The words dissolve into raw anguish. "I had no knowledge of his true nature. No idea he was capable of such dishonor."

The genuine anguish in his voice reinforces what I already suspected. Sho is innocent of his son's crimes. But innocence doesn't absolve negligence.

"Rise, Sho-san."

He lifts his head, tears streaming down weathered cheeks. "I offer my life in payment for his crimes. Seppuku, witnessed by the council, to restore honor to your family and mine."

"That would be convenient for you." My voice carries no warmth.

"A clean death to escape the mess your negligence created.

" He flinches. "Thirty years of service," I continue with cold precision.

"Thirty years of claiming to understand honor, loyalty, family protection.

And you raised a chikan who hunted my daughter like prey.

" I move behind my desk, maintaining the barrier of authority between us.

"Tell me what you knew of his activities. "

Sho remains on his knees, struggling to compose himself.

"I knew about the bars. The joshi kōsei places in Shibuya.

" Shame colors his voice. "I told myself it was harmless—a young man clinging to youth, that he'd grow out of it when he found a proper wife.

But this," His voice breaks completely. "How did I not see that he was capable of this?

That he would hunt an innocent child while I believed him simply immature? "

"Because you chose not to see. You knew your son paid to sit with schoolgirls in uniforms. You knew he fetishized innocence, sought out the youngest legal targets available. And you convinced yourself it was harmless because acknowledging the truth would have required difficult action."

His face crumples with the weight of recognition.

"Thirty years of serving this family, and when it mattered most—when your son was escalating from paid fantasy to real predation—you chose willful blindness over protection.

" I lean forward, voice dropping to lethal quiet.

"My daughter suffered psychological torture because you didn't want to confront what your boy really was.

Your grief for your son is natural. Your guilt is deserved.

" I lean back in my chair, maintaining the distance.

"But don't mistake my allowing you to live as forgiveness.

You failed in the most fundamental duty a man has: knowing what kind of monster lives under his own roof. "

The silence stretches between us, heavy with implications neither of us can ignore.

"Your service continues because I need experienced men, not because you've earned redemption.

" My voice carries the weight of absolute authority.

"But understand this: one more failure of judgment, one more moment of willful blindness when family safety is at stake, and your thirty years of loyalty becomes irrelevant. "

Understanding settles in his expression, not peace, but the beginning of comprehension that survival requires more than grief. "The council meeting?"

"Hiroshi is using your son's death to challenge my authority. Claims I acted rashly, that my judgment is compromised." I study his broken posture. "What do you need from me?"

The loyalty that's defined our relationship for three decades hardens his grief into resolve. "What do you need from me?"

"The truth. When the time comes, tell them what kind of man your son really was."

The council chamber feels charged with tension when I arrive.

Seven advisors arranged around the polished table, their faces carrying the careful neutrality of men who've chosen sides but aren't yet ready to reveal allegiances.

Hiroshi sits prominently at the far end, his expression combining manufactured outrage with political opportunity.

Sho sits separately, grief and shame radiating from him like heat.

"Honored advisors," I begin, settling into my chair at the head of the table. "I understand there are concerns requiring discussion."

"Concerns." Hiroshi's voice carries rehearsed indignation. "A young man lies dead, murdered in his own bed. Daichi Shuichi. A promising member of our organization, son of our trusted Sho-san. He was cut down by violence that serves nothing except personal vengeance."

The accusation hangs in the air. Several advisors shift uncomfortably, recognizing that we've moved beyond political maneuvering into direct challenge.

"That's a serious allegation, Hiroshi-san. I trust you have evidence to support such accusations?"

"The method. The timing immediately after accusations about the victim's relationship with your daughter. Professional execution designed to send messages." His voice strengthens with conviction. "And your convenient absence last night during a family emergency meeting."

Each point builds his case with prosecutorial precision. But Hiroshi has made one fundamental miscalculation. He assumes I'm trying to hide what I did.

"Interesting theory," I say conversationally. "But I'm curious. We in the business kill all the time. So, why would someone's death be considered murder rather than justice?"

The question shifts the entire dynamic. Several advisors straighten, recognizing the verbal trap closing around their chosen champion.

"Because vigilante violence undermines proper authority."

"Whose authority?" I interrupt. "The civilian legal system that protects perverts through technicalities? The government justice that prioritizes procedure over protecting children?" My voice drops to deadly calm. "Or the older authority that demands blood payment for crimes against family honor?"

I rise from my chair, suddenly towering over the assembled men while they remain seated. The psychological reversal is immediate and absolute.

"Let's discuss what actually happened to Daichi Shuichi. Let's examine the evidence you're so eager to present."

I begin walking slowly around the table, hands clasped behind my back.

"For three months, your twenty-five-year-old colleague systematically groomed my eighteen-year-old daughter. Convinced her that sexual exploitation was education, that degradation was preparation for marriage, that compliance with his demands demonstrated sophistication."

Sho's face crumples with fresh shame and horror, but he doesn't protest. He knows I'm telling the truth.

"He used her natural curiosity about adulthood against her, made her believe that sending explicit photographs and messages was normal communication between sophisticated adults.

Positioned himself as teacher and guide while systematically destroying her understanding of appropriate boundaries.

" I stop behind Hiroshi's chair, close enough that he can feel my presence like pressure against his spine.

"Then, when his psychological manipulation was complete, he used that same evidence to force marriage negotiations.

Presented himself as generous salvation from the shame he'd created. "