by Sarah Kuhn
“I told her not to tell our father,” Auntie Suzy continues. “I knew that would only end badly. But one of the things about Grace . . . she was always so convinced of people’s inherent goodness. She thought that if he loved her, he’d come around. But of course, he didn’t. Instead of giving her a safe place to land, he threatened to disown us both. He couldn’t believe he’d raised . . .” Her voice catches, but she shakes it off, soldiering on. “Two degenerates,” she spits out. “I wanted to stand up to him, to tell him I was sick of how he’d made both of us feel worthless. To disown him. But Grace . . .” She shakes her head. “She knew that would be catastrophic for me and Och and our little fledgling restaurant. Our father was a powerful elder figure in the Little Tokyo community, and he could very likely get other elders to boycott the restaurant—which would only spread until we had no business at all. He could have gotten all of Little Tokyo to turn their backs on us—something he’d certainly threatened to do before.”
I feel a small hand take mine, forcing me to let go of my shirt. I look over to see Rory, her eyes as big as dinner plates. She’s so invested in where this is going. Belle is sitting on her other side, so she’s kind of sandwiched in between us. I see Belle take Rory’s other hand and look up to catch her eye. We share a small, impulsive smile. I can’t help but feel like we’re cradling Rory, holding her close to us—like Auntie Suzy tried to do with Grace.
“Grace told me she’d give the baby up for adoption,” Auntie Suzy continues. “But I could tell that would break her heart—shatter her beyond fixing.” She turns away from the window and meets my gaze, and there is something so tender lighting her eyes. Something I’ve never really seen before from her. “She always wanted you, Rika-chan. That was never in doubt.”
Something twists in my chest, and I can only nod quickly, my eyes going to the floor.
“So we came up with a plan. Och and I would take the baby in. Grace would disappear. We’d say she died in childbirth. And as outlandish as this sounds, it actually wasn’t that hard to do. At that point, everyone knew she was pregnant, and everyone was talking. But no one showed up to support. As much as we go on around here about family being so important, I guess a pregnant fifteen-year-old was just too much for people to handle.”
A few of the older people in the room hang their heads, shamed. And rightfully so, I think.
“Many people shunned her, just pretended she didn’t exist. I had gotten her set up at a hospital that wasn’t anywhere near Little Tokyo—the same hospital where I had Belle, just months before. My father never came with us. So when I returned from the hospital with a baby and a story about how my little sister had died . . . well. I think he was relieved, to be honest.” Auntie Suzy’s eyes flash with anger. This particular rage has never left her—it’s just been buried very deeply for the past seventeen years. “Grace and I decided that she would set herself up with a new last name and a different life and hide out until either the taint of scandal faded or our father passed away. She lied about her age and got odd jobs waitressing and cleaning houses, and of course I sent her money whenever I could. Strangely, because I had taken in the baby”—she frowns, turning back to the window—“my father decided he could tolerate my other . . . ‘transgressions.’ I guess it was just such a good Japanese-daughter thing to do. Perhaps the only time in my life I was ever a good Japanese daughter, in his estimation.”
Her face twists into a bitter smile.
“Our father did pass away eventually, but the scandal never quite died down. And Grace, after several years of working herself to the bone and going on whatever auditions she could . . . well, she finally landed her first big role. The one that would make her a star.”
“An Asian Hollywood princess,” Belle murmurs.
“Over the years, she kept asking when she could come back,” Auntie Suzy says. “When she could finally be a mother to you. I always said the time wasn’t right.”
Auntie Suzy pauses again, taking deep breaths. Then she forces herself to turn and meet my eyes.
“This is where I went wrong, Rika-chan, but you must understand that it didn’t seem that way at the time. The years stretched on and . . . it was never the right time. I’d finally made a place in the community for myself—for our family. Our restaurant was thriving. I felt like I belonged, at last. And you seemed to be doing so well—you had judo and your sisters, and you were so”—she smiles a little—“so fierce. Your spirit was one of the boldest I’d ever seen. I didn’t want to disrupt any of that—I couldn’t bring myself to rock the boat. We’d fought so hard . . .” She trails off, bowing her head. “And there were other complications as well. The backstory Grace’s Hollywood people invented for her was completely made up, no mention of Little Tokyo or her secret child. She kept talking about how this would have to be done a certain way—there would be some kind of big-deal publicity photo shoot, revealing you. You would suddenly be in the public eye, exposed. Everything about you would be scrutinized, picked apart. You were still so little, I couldn’t imagine . . .” She shakes her head, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I could not see how that would be good for you. Grace and I finally had a huge fight when you were five. Twelve years ago. And I told her that she could keep the money she had started to send back, we didn’t need it. We haven’t spoken since.”
Auntie Suzy pauses for so long, I think maybe that’s the end of the story—appropriately bittersweet. But then her mouth curves into the most wistful of smiles.
“But I could never resist watching her movies. I felt like I was finally seeing her get the happy ending she’d always deserved. And that I was still connected to the person I’d once been closer to than anyone in the world.”
I think of how Auntie Suzy always looks at the end of a Grace Kimura movie—tears in her eyes, that same wistful smile lighting her face. I always thought she was crying because of the cheesy romantic beauty of it all—but she was crying for so much more.
Auntie Suzy meets my eyes again. “I’m so sorry, Rika-chan. I don’t think I can ever make up for what I’ve cost you. You must know that I always did what I thought was best for you. You were your mother’s complete opposite when you came out—red-faced, screaming, always so angry. But I knew you were going to fight hard for everything, just like she did. And I loved you as immediately and fiercely as I loved her.”
Auntie Suzy’s eyes fill with tears again, and she gives me a wavery smile.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Silence falls over the crowd, enveloping us like a blanket. I just stare at Auntie Suzy. I barely remember anyone else is in the room.
I don’t know what to do next, so I let pure instinct guide me. I give Rory’s hand a squeeze and pass her my nure-onna shirt, then slip out of the booth, gathering my big skirts around me. I slowly cross the room to Auntie Suzy, my eyes never leaving hers. I stand in front of her for a long moment, still not sure exactly what I’m doing. She draws herself up a little taller, like she’s bracing herself. Waiting for a fight. Because she knows I’m always ready for a fight.
I should be angry with her. After hearing that story, my kaiju-temper should be raging to get out. But all I see when I look at her is the girl she used to be, the girl who fought like hell for everything. Who fought like hell for me. And yes, who’s made a bunch of mistakes along the way, but mistakes always tend to happen when you’re fighting so damn hard. I know that better than anyone.
I thought I was waiting for someone to want me. But all this time, someone did.
I take another step forward, closing the distance between us.
And then I collapse against her, throwing my arms around her waist and burying my face in her shoulder. I let out a long, shuddering sob—something that feels like it’s been bottled up inside me for the past seventeen years.
“I love you so much,” I whisper.
“Oh, Rika,” she says, stroking my hair. “Rika-
chan.”
“Wait, I have a question!” a little voice yells, puncturing the moment.
Auntie Suzy and I look up from our embrace to see Rory jumping to her feet, planting her hands on her hips in indignation.
“Why didn’t anyone in Little Tokyo recognize Grace when she became a big star?” She narrows her eyes at some of the older people in the room. “I mean, none of you thought it was odd that this supposedly dead outcast girl was suddenly on all your movie screens?”
“Years had passed by then,” Auntie Suzy says. “She looked just different enough that people could pretend like they’d forgotten about tragic little Grace Rakuyama.”
“Hmph,” Auntie Och snorts, getting to her feet. “It was also shame.” She glares at everyone else. “This community was ashamed of that lost girl who got pregnant, ne? They treat her like garbage, then she die. When she shows up again in the movies . . .” Auntie Och shrugs. “Easier to act like they never see her before. Easier to pretend she’s a whole new person.” Her glare intensifies, and some people in the room can’t help but shrink away from it. “We have too many secrets. Too much shame in our secrets.”
“Sounds like the Asian way,” I mutter under my breath. I’m surprised to hear Auntie Suzy snort at that, like she’s on the verge of a laugh.
“What is going on here?”
We all swivel toward the piercing voice that’s broken into our sanctum, a dissonant disruption to all the crying.
And there, standing in the doorway of Katsu That, is the last person I expected to see.
Craig Shimizu. Glowering at the assembled crowd.
And then his gaze lands on me, and that glower turns to pure hate.
TWENTY
“What are you doing here?” Craig demands of me. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
My temper stirs—I swear I can feel my nure-onna waking up, lifting her head.
But before it can fully ignite, Auntie Suzy steps in front of me.
“She hasn’t done anything,” she says—and her voice has so much steel in it, I do a double take. I have never heard Auntie Suzy—permanently exhausted, absentminded, “don’t rock the boat” Auntie Suzy—address someone with so much fire. “And if you want to talk about ‘trouble,’ Craig Shimizu, I would suggest you take a good, hard look at your own actions and delete all the bullshit you’ve been spewing online about my family.”
The room falls completely silent—save for Rory murmuring “Daaaaaamn” under her breath.
I’m with her, but I’m way too shocked to say anything. Auntie Suzy’s hands are planted on her hips, her spine is ramrod straight, and her eyes flash with something I’ve never quite seen before. It’s like she’s regaining all her witchy powers right before my eyes.
Surprise crosses Craig’s face, then he quickly coaxes his expression back into its usual smirk.
“Everything I posted is true—and for the sake of our community, I’m just so relieved all your family’s disgusting scandals are finally exposed. That none of you will be part of Nikkei Week and our great traditions now.” He sneers at me. “I knew you’d disgrace us all at some point—didn’t realize you’d be so stupid about it, though, toting the proof around in your pocket, where it could just”—his eyes drift to the floor of Katsu That—“fall out. Right where anyone could see it.”
“You . . . you took my pictures,” I murmur, the puzzle pieces snapping together. “They must have fallen out of my pocket that day when Henry was here and . . .” I shake my head. “You gave them to some gossip site?”
He shrugs, his smile widening. Clearly enjoying himself. “Just doing my part to take out the trash.”
A piercing cry rings out through the restaurant—and before I know what’s happening, a tiny figure zips through the crowd and launches herself directly at Craig Shimizu.
“No, Rory!” I shriek, throwing my arms around her and pulling her back before she makes contact.
“Don’t!” she screams, thrashing in my embrace. “I’m going to kill him!”
“No, you’re not,” I say, shoving her squirming form toward Auntie Och, who gathers her up.
I turn back to Craig and step forward, as if shielding my family, still clad in my ridiculous princess dress.
“Your problem is with me,” I say, rage sparking in my chest. But I don’t try to suppress it this time. I let myself feel it. “Don’t take it out on them.”
“It’s not just you,” he says, taking a step toward me, so we’re practically nose to nose. I refuse to step back, to give an inch. “It’s your whole fucked-up family. You just happen to be the most fucked-up. And no matter how badly you want it”—he smirks again—“you will never belong here.”
My kaiju-temper roars, and I’m about to fully let him have it . . . when I feel Auntie Suzy’s hand, squeezing mine.
“Your hate doesn’t belong here,” she says to Craig, that steel in her voice again. “That’s what hurts our community more than anything.”
“You need to watch your tone,” Craig warns—and now his eyes flash with something beyond his usual smirk. Something cold and mean. “My father can make sure all of you are banned for life—”
“No, he can’t.” Belle appears on my other side, drawing herself up tall—like the queen she is. “One person doesn’t have that kind of power—we are a community, are we not?” She casts an imperious look around the room.
“Hai—yes!” Auntie Och says, her arms still wrapped around Rory, who has stopped squirming and is now leveling Craig with a death-glare. “And communities need to change and grow along with the people in them. Your father need to learn that, too.”
“That’s right,” Sensei Mary says, getting to her feet. “And he might want to remember that head of the Nikkei Week board is an elected position.” She gives him a wry smile. “Which means we can elect someone else next year.”
“Hear, hear!” Uncle Hikaru says, nodding emphatically. “What about Suzy? She cares more about Little Tokyo than anyone!”
“Mmm, it’s about time we had a woman in charge anyway,” an Auntie chimes in—and I recognize her as one of the gossiping Aunties from the mochi demonstration. “The Shimizus always want Nikkei Week to stay exactly the same—”
“Because of tradition,” Craig spits out. “W-we can’t corrupt that. And besides, my father has always been elected head of Nikkei Week—”
“Not always,” Eliza says, rolling her eyes. “Nikkei Week existed long before your father did. And we can preserve tradition while still updating it, right?”
“That’s part of community, too,” Sensei Mary agrees.
“I’ll be more than happy to accept your votes,” Auntie Suzy says, her eyes flashing.
“You can go tell your father we’ll all be at the gala tonight,” Belle says defiantly. “And if he wants to kick up a fuss . . .”
“There’s nothing he can really do about it,” Uncle Hikaru says.
“Unless he wants to ban all of us,” Rory says, gesturing around the room.
“And it really won’t be much of a gala with no one there, will it?” the mochi-demo Auntie says with a perfectly judgmental eyebrow raise.
Craig sputters, unable to get a single word out, his face turning bright red. I keep waiting for someone in the room to break ranks, to denounce me or all the Rakuyamas . . . but no one does. Everyone stands behind me, staring Craig down.
He sputters for a few moments more, his gaze finally landing on me.
“This is all your fault,” he hisses, his eyes filled with ice-cold hate. “Fucking half-breed mistake.”
My kaiju-temper sparks, sending fresh waves of rage coursing through my bloodstream. I imagine myself as the nure-onna, flames rising around me, my anger sure and true.
“No, it’s not,” I snarl. I step forward and feel a vicious twist of satisfaction when he steps back, panic crossin
g his face. “And I am not a mistake—that is so . . . fucked-up to even say that. A person can’t be a mistake.”
The truth of that hits me right as the words come out of my mouth. The image I saw in the JACCC mirror—that monster princess who felt so whole—swims through my consciousness. I am real. I am who I’m meant to be.
“And if you ever spew your disgusting hate at me or anyone in this family—this community—ever again, I won’t hold back,” I declare.
“What, you’ll bite me again?” he says—but his words don’t have the same heat behind them. It’s like whatever spell was keeping his noble-prince persona in place is melting away, layer by layer, and now I can see him for what he really is. First he morphs into a fairy tale villain, a sneering troll under a bridge. And then a sad little boy who isn’t doing anything with his life except drumming up drama, obeying his father’s toxic wishes, and bullying everyone “beneath” him so he can feel important.
“Any power you thought you had over me—over anyone—is gone,” I say, the fire in my chest burning brighter with every word. I bare my fangs at him, just as the nure-onna would. “I don’t have to bite you—but you know what? Don’t test me.”
I take another step forward, and he steps back again, stumbling into the entryway. I get right in his face—and despite my giant princess gown, I don’t stumble at all. In fact, the sheer grandeur of the dress makes me feel powerful—like the monster princess I am.
“Get out,” I growl. “Now.”
He stumbles out the door and into the street, his face getting redder by the second. I picture the nure-onna, smiling with the satisfaction—and a glow forms around my pulsing rage.
“Bad. Ass!” Rory shrieks, breaking loose from Auntie Och and running up to me. She throws her spindly arms around my waist and hugs me hard. “Wow, he fucking sucks!” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oops. Sorry, Moms!”
