by Carrie Asai
“After Ohiko…fell…and the ninja ran out, I grabbed the Whisper and ran. Ohiko told me to find you. I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t know what to do.” I was babbling, I knew, but I couldn’t stop. “I have no money. I don’t know anyone in the States. I mean, there’s Katie, but I don’t know if she could help me or whether I’d be putting her in danger. Someone’s obviously looking for me. That black limo—those men in the parking lot—”
“You don’t know for sure that they were looking for you, Heaven,” Hiro said, sitting back down. “And even if they were—well, of course your father is going to have men searching for you. He wants to protect you.”
“How do you know that? How can we know anything after what happened?” I exclaimed. “My father let Ohiko die! And I know that ninja was after me.”
Hiro looked unmoved. “How do you know that?”
“How do I—” I looked at him in shock, frustrated. “How do I know? I just do! How do you know when someone’s standing behind you? You feel it!”
“You need something to eat.” Hiro stood and walked over to the stove.
“I don’t need something to eat!” I snapped. I knew I sounded like a cranky baby, but I didn’t care. “I didn’t come here for food, Hiro. I came here because Ohiko told me to. Someone is trying to hurt me. He thought you would help me.”
I saw the muscles in Hiro’s back tighten under his white T-shirt, but he didn’t turn around. Fine. If he wasn’t going to talk, I wouldn’t talk, either. I didn’t say a word until he returned to the table with two steaming bowls of miso. “So? What do you think I should do now?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
Hiro stirred his soup slowly, and I watched the bits of tofu float to the surface and then settle back down to the bottom. “I think you should call your father,” he finally said.
“What?” Hadn’t he been listening to me at all?
“I’m very serious,” Hiro answered. “You’re in real danger, and your father will be able to protect you better than anyone else. He’s a very well guarded man, Heaven.”
“But…” My mind spun. I knew Hiro was wrong. How could I prove it to him? “There’s something else I didn’t tell you. Before Ohiko died, he spoke to me. He said, ‘Don’t trust your family.’ ”
“Are you sure?” Hiro frowned.
“Do you think I could forget something like that?” Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. The smell of the soup was making my stomach heave.
“I still think you should get in touch with your father. Obviously the threat is real, but Ohiko—” Hiro paused. It looked like saying my brother’s name sucked the breath out of his lungs. “Ohiko may not have known exactly where it was coming from.”
“Couldn’t I stay here?” I pleaded. I couldn’t go back to my father. I loved him, but I didn’t trust him anymore. “Just until we figure things out…? Someone may try to contact me.”
Hiro met my gaze steadily. “Who?”
“I don’t know…. Someone,” I said helplessly, hating the pathetic sound that kept creeping into my voice.
“Heaven, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. I know how much you loved Ohiko. I want to be able to ask you to stay here. But I can’t keep you safe. Do you understand that?” For the first time I heard real emotion in Hiro’s voice—anger, frustration, and grief.
“I don’t have family here,” he continued, already getting control of himself again. “I’m a bike messenger with no money. I can’t protect you in a Kogo-Yukemura feud.”
“You think Teddy’s family was responsible?” I gasped.
“I don’t know. It was just an example. My point is that your father is a very powerful man with many business interests at stake. And when money is at stake—people will kill for it. What happened at your wedding sounds to me like yet another business power struggle turned deadly.” Hiro rubbed his face with both hands. “It sickens me that Ohiko had to pay the price of that struggle—but your father would not let anything happen to you.” He touched my hand so quickly I almost wasn’t sure it had happened. “After all, you’re almost a national treasure.”
I jerked my hand away, looking at him in disbelief. A power struggle turned deadly? The Kogo-Yukemura feud? I knew my father and the Yukemuras were business enemies, and I figured that my wedding to Teddy would solidify their truce somehow. But killing? My father would never kill anyone for business. What Hiro was describing was madness. But what made it worse was how calm he was while he spoke to me.
“Look,” I said, trying to change the subject, “the whole point of the wedding was to end the feud with the Yukemuras, not start a new one. Besides, if my father is so evil, then shouldn’t I be avoiding him, not running back to him for protection?”
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘The evil you know’?” Hiro asked.
I shook my head. Why was he suddenly turning into a schoolteacher?
“It means that sometimes you don’t have any choice but to choose between two evils. And I think your father—”
“Wait. Stop,” I interrupted. “So you’re saying you do think he’s evil.” I felt like the earth was crumbling away below me.
“It’s more complicated than that.” Hiro closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and continued. “I know this must be confusing for you. You haven’t been made to participate in this aspect of your father’s life until now. But you have to trust me. You have to go to your family. I can’t help you.”
I felt anger swelling in my chest. I couldn’t believe that Ohiko would have trusted someone who was so utterly selfish. “So what do you expect me to do?” I blurted, surprising myself with the force of my voice. I didn’t sound anything like a pathetic baby now.
“Heaven—”
“No!” I cried, jumping to my feet. I couldn’t return to my father. How could Hiro say those things about Konishi and still expect me to crawl dutifully back home? Couldn’t he understand that I needed his help? That I had no one else to go to, at least for now?
“You’re not listening to me—,” Hiro said, but I interrupted him again before he could finish.
“Oh, I’m listening. Ohiko died protecting me. And he told me to find you. But don’t worry. I won’t disturb your precious peace anymore. I’m sorry to have sullied your house with the presence of a Kogo. You know what? When I was fourteen, I told Ohiko I thought you were lame. He defended you back then, and I believed him. But clearly he was wrong about you. You’re not fit to even say his name.”
“Heaven, sit down,” Hiro ordered, as if he had the right. “I understand how upset you are, but you have to think logically about the situation. Your duty is to your family. You have to go to them.”
Hearing the words that my father had said to me so many times coming from Hiro made me furious. Konishi said it was my duty to my family to behave. Konishi said it was my duty to my family to study hard. Konishi said it was my duty to my family to marry Teddy. Who was Hiro? What did he really believe?
“Don’t you even mention my family! You don’t know anything about it! Ohiko was my family, and he’s dead. Do you hear me?” I shouted. “He’s dead, and my duty is to find out why he died and try not to get myself killed doing it.” I pushed my chair out of the way. My hands were trembling. I’d never yelled at anyone like that in my life.
“Ohiko knew—”
“Don’t say his name!” A ceramic bowl crashed against the wall behind Hiro. He closed his mouth and sat very still. I blinked at the pieces of the bowl and the ugly brown splash of miso on the clean white wall. I did that. I hadn’t stopped to think about what was right or proper. It was like my hands had made a decision for me—and wham!
I ran into the bedroom and hurled myself to my knees to look for my flip-flops. One had gotten kicked under the futon. One was next to my shopping bag. I shoved on the shoes, grabbed the bag, and stood up. Ignoring Hiro, I raced through the living room and fumbled with the lock on the front door. Then I was out in another sunny L.A. day.
How could it be so sunny and cheerful when my life was falling apart?
Hiro didn’t want to help me. That was fine. I would just go back to being on my own. He called my name as I fled down the front path. I didn’t even look over my shoulder.
I had only one clear thought as I hit the streets again—Ohiko’s death would not be for nothing. Someone would pay. I would make sure of it.
Once she turns off Lily Place, she’ll be exposed. Part of me wants to let her go and lock the door behind her. But the other part of me insists that I find her, help her, guide her. Protect her. Even if it seems impossible.
This girl, this amazing girl stepped into my life, and it feels like nothing can ever be the same. What brought her to my doorstep? What kind of world is it that allows people, good people like Heaven and Ohiko, to become the unwilling accomplices to such evil? And how can I, your basic, ordinary bike messenger, change Heaven’s destiny? The shape of her life was decided the day that the Kogo family adopted her.
Am I the kind of man who sits in front of a cold bowl of miso calculating what is possible and impossible before I get off my butt and take action? Her brother was my friend. He sent her to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to protect her. But he chose me.
My phone rings, and I know it’s Karen. She’s the only one who calls. Something keeps me from answering. Something makes me grab my keys. Something about Heaven pulls me out of the house toward her.
What else can I do?
Hiro
6
Miso is not a weapon, I thought. I shouldn’t have thrown that soup. I should have eaten it. My stomach was rumbling like an angry volcano. I felt around in the pocket of my jeans. Ohiko’s money was still there. I needed to eat something…and then I’d figure out what to do next. My options were dwindling.
I kept an eye out for somewhere to stop. The day was hot, and I could feel sweat trickling down my spine; the air wasn’t fresh—a kind of yellowish cloud hung over the streets. I passed one place, then another. I wasn’t sure how to choose. I’d never eaten by myself in my whole life. When we ate out in Tokyo, it was generally a family affair, and we only went to fancy places, the kind of restaurants where the Iron Chef challengers work. I’d always wanted to hang out at the diners I saw in the movies, American diners with rude waitresses, unlimited coffee refills, and big ice-cream sundaes. Sometimes, if Ohiko and Katie and I were allowed out to do some shopping by ourselves, we managed to convince the bodyguards to let us go for a cheeseburger at the Rock & Roll Café or hit one of the better sushi stands down in the Shibuya district, but that was about as independent as I got.
It was funny. Even though Ohiko and I had made big plans for our eventual escape, I’d rarely tried to assert my independence at home. I took the easy way out, figuring that I could be as independent as I wanted as soon as I got away from home. I wondered now what would have happened if I had stood up for myself a little bit more, if Ohiko and I had really tried to change things. I sighed. It was probably wishful thinking to assume that things would have been different. Konishi would have just gotten angry and been even stricter, loading on more duties. As he often said to Ohiko, “If you have time to be unhappy, then you have too much time.”
A delicious scent wafted toward me from a Day-Glo-orange taco stand set back slightly from the street. Tacos Mexicos was spelled out in crooked letters on a sign propped on top of the squat little building. Five or six plastic tables stood off to the side, each with its own brightly colored umbrella. The few people sitting at the tables looked fairly normal and unthreatening, so I decided to go for it. I’d never had Mexican food before. French, Italian, Chinese, German…but Mexican wasn’t really big in Japan, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of food Konishi Kogo went out for on a weekend.
I stepped up to the counter. “Two tacos, please,” I said, trying to sound like I ordered lunch for myself every day.
“What kind?” the man behind the counter asked.
“Um…” I thought a taco was a taco.
The man behind the counter adjusted his baseball cap and rolled his eyes. He pointed to a menu above the window of the stand. “We got chicken, bean, brain, fish, steak….”
“Brain?” I made a face. Had I heard him right?
“Two brain? You want sour cream and guac?” He looked bored.
“No, no. I mean, is it really made out of brain?”
“Yeah. Cow brain. You want two?”
Definitely not ready for a brain taco. “No. Um…two bean, please.”
“Cheesetomatolettucesourcreamguac?” the guy asked.
“Sure.” No idea what he was talking about.
“Hot sauce?”
“Yes.” I loved spicy food.
“Mildmediumhot?”
Again, no clue what he’d said. “Yes.”
I got a bigger eye roll. “Which one?”
“Oh. Hot.” I fumbled for my money. Thankfully I was too hungry to worry about being embarrassed, because it took me a while to count out the right amount. When he handed back my change, I realized I was thirsty. “Can I get a drink?”
“Now she wants a drink.” He didn’t seem to be talking to me, so I ignored him.
“Coke, please.” I handed over more money, and he gave me the soda. I sat under the blue umbrella farthest back from the street.
My first taco. It was delicious and unlike any other food I had ever eaten. After a few bites I gave up trying to identify each flavor and just chewed away happily in between sips of Coke, feeling better with each bite. Maybe I would eat Mexican exclusively from now on. Maybe the taco gods would guide me in my quest.
I watched the cars passing in the street and kept an eye out for black limousines. Two drove by, and I began to feel nervous until I realized that given the huge number of celebrities, limos were probably a pretty common sight in L.A. I scooted around to the other end of my table for a better vantage point and started in on taco number two. The words of a Shakira song floated out from a radio propped on the counter…. Don’t you count on me….
How appropriate. Next time I saw Hiro, I should make sure and play it for him. Except there wasn’t going to be any next time.
I scanned the people at the other tables, trying not to be obvious. In certain ways L.A. was eerily familiar, especially when I’d been down on the Strip the night of the wedding. But in other ways it was unexpected. The people on the streets looked more, well, unfabulous than I’d thought they would. I’d expected the streets to be filled with sleek, tanned celebrities, not people who looked like the Americans swamping the streets of Tokyo during the tourist season. Also, movies sure made L.A. look a lot smaller. Everything was so spread out. There were long stretches of street with only one or two buildings. So different from cozy Japan.
I realized that it was actually getting dark. Again I’d slept late—I’d be nocturnal soon if I wasn’t careful—and I was anxious to get off the streets. I counted out Ohiko’s money. Forty-two dollars and change. Not enough for a hotel or anything except maybe a few more taco meals. My heart sank. Where could I sleep? I could try calling Katie, but she wouldn’t be able to help that night—not all the way from Vegas. I’d have to wander around and look for options.
Nothing really looked familiar, so I just started down Hollywood Boulevard. At least I recognized the name, and it felt safer to be moving. It was weird—although there were sidewalks everywhere, hardly anyone in L.A. seemed to be on foot. The Boulevard was a lot sleazier and more depressing than I’d expected. There was a shop selling sex toys, with displays right in the window for everyone to see.
I decided to keep my eyes on the stars that ran down the sidewalk—the Walk of Fame, they called this stretch of the street. I read the names on the sidewalk stars as I went, old-timers like Marilyn Monroe and Gene Kelly mixed in with newer celebs like Tom Hanks and Michele Pfeiffer.
The tourists got thicker, and I saw a famous building that I recognized from the Oscar broadcasts as Graumann’s Chinese Theater—high, narrow
green roof, red columns, a dragon carved over the entrance. The Kodak Theater, where the Oscars were held, was right next door. I paused for a minute and put my hand in the handprint Arnold Schwarzenegger had left in the cement outside the movie theater. I could use a little of the Terminator ’tude. A guy in a Yoda mask tried to get me to pay him a dollar to have my picture taken with him, but I figured a Yoda who asked for cash wasn’t a Yoda worth knowing, so I brushed him off and kept walking.
Eventually the air began to cool and the gold letters of the sidewalk stars dimmed. I couldn’t read the names on them anymore. The tourists had thinned out, and the only people on the street seemed live on the corners I found them on. They were surrounded by bags full of their possessions. The lucky ones had shopping carts piled high with everything from cans of tuna to stuffed animals. One lady had two cats on leashes sharing her space.
I wondered if I could spend the night on the street the way these people seemed to do. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep. I wouldn’t want to close my eyes for more than a blink—who knew who might be sneaking up?
I passed a small building covered with colored tiles. The sign at the corner said Hollywood and Vine Metro Station. I headed inside the building and down the long flight of stairs—a train station might not be a bad place to spend the night. Especially this one. It was clean and wildly decorated. The whole ceiling was lined with silver canisters, the kind movies are stored in. Cool. I could definitely hang out here. There were even a few benches shaped like cars that looked like possible beds to me.
But yikes, there were also policemen—or maybe security guards—patrolling, checking people’s tickets. I turned around and headed back up the stairs to the street. No sleeping in one of the bright car benches for me. I thought of calling Cheryl but decided against it. After all, I didn’t really know her. And what if she’d read something about me in the paper? I couldn’t risk her getting in touch with my father.
