Kaito led Aiko down a long, covered walkway that looked out onto a private inner garden. The sound of their footsteps on the dark, polished wood was the only sound. He slid open a heavy screen door and ushered her inside.
This was his home.
It was nothing like the sterile safe house. Kaito's personal quarters were a sprawling suite of rooms that blended ancient tradition with modern comfort. The main room had soft tatami mats underfoot, but a low, comfortable-looking modern sofa sat in the center. One wall was a library of books, their spines ranging from old, leather-bound volumes to modern paperbacks. Aiko's eyes immediately found a section dedicated to European art history. Another wall was a single, seamless pane of glass looking out onto a private garden, complete with a small, gnarled maple tree.
It was a space that was both a fortress and a sanctuary. It was a perfect reflection of the man himself. Mochi, whom Aiko had carried in his carrier, immediately leaped out and began to explore this vast new territory with a curious tail held high.
The moment the screen door slid shut, sealing them inside, Aiko turned to him. "Kaito, what was that?" she asked, her voice a flustered whisper. "You just told your entire household that I... that we..."
"I told them the truth," he said simply, his voice losing the formal edge it had outside. He came to stand in front of her. "You are not a temporary guest, Aiko. You are not a problem to be managed. You are my partner. This is your home now. It was important that everyone in this house understand that from the very first moment. It is a matter of respect. For you."
He was protecting her again, she realized. Not from assassins, but from whispers, from judgments, from the thousand tiny cuts of being an outsider. He was using his absolute authority to build a shield around her.
Before she could reply, there was a soft, formal knock at the door.
Kaito slid it open. Chiyo, the elderly head of staff, stood there, flanked by two younger maids. All three bowed deeply.
"Ishikawa-sama," Chiyo said, her voice polite and empty of emotion. "We have come to assist Tanaka-sama with her belongings." She looked past Kaito to the small cardboard box Aiko had brought.
"Thank you, Chiyo-san," Kaito said.
Chiyo and the maids stepped inside. The old woman's eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail, her gaze finally landing on Aiko. "Where would the master like us to place her things?" she asked, directing the question to Kaito, as if Aiko wasn't even there.
It was a subtle but clear power play. She was establishing the hierarchy. Kaito was the master; Aiko was a thing to be placed.
Aiko felt a flash of defiance. She would not be a doll in his house. She stepped forward, giving Chiyo a small, respectful bow.
"Thank you for your help, Chiyo-san," Aiko said, her voice quiet but firm. "You can just place the box on the table for now. I can unpack my own things."
Chiyo's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. It was a tiny crack in her mask of perfect servitude. She had expected a timid, pliant girl. She had not expected this quiet, polite assertion of independence. She bowed again, a stiff, formal gesture. "As you wish, Tanaka-sama."
She gave a sharp, silent signal to the younger maids, and they exited as silently as they had appeared.
After the door slid shut, Kaito looked at Aiko, a hint of an appreciative smile in his eyes. "That was well handled."
"She doesn't like me being here," Aiko stated.
"Chiyo's loyalty is to the Ishikawa clan," Kaito explained, his voice turning serious. "She served my father for forty years. She respects tradition and order above all else. You are... a disruption to that order. Earning her respect will be a battle."
Aiko watched as Mochi batted playfully at the tassel on an ancient-looking scroll. This place was full of history, rules she didn't understand, and a formidable old woman who saw her as an intruder.
She sighed and began to unpack her box. She carefully took out her grandmother's teapot and the four matching cups, lining them up on the table. They looked so simple and humble in this room of quiet, immense wealth.
Kaito came over, his expression thoughtful. He picked up one of the delicate ceramic teacups. He then walked over to a beautiful, dark wood display cabinet, where several priceless-looking pieces of ancient pottery and artifacts were displayed. He moved a small, intricately carved jade statue to the side and, in its place, he carefully set down her grandmother's simple teacup.
It sat there, in the center of the shelf, surrounded by the treasures of his clan. A humble teacup, elevated to a place of honor.
Aiko stared at it, a lump forming in her throat. It was a silent, powerful gesture. He wasn't just making a space for her in his room. He was making a space for her, and her history, in the heart of his world.