Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(42)

“Gaijin,” Akiko spits out as I pass.

Just in case I didn’t hear it the first time, Noriko repeats it. “Gaijin.”

My cousins set me up.

Head down, I escape.





17


My flee is legendary. I am Cinderella running from the ball, but I won’t be leaving behind a glass slipper, and I won’t be waiting for a prince to rescue me.

My eyes glisten from trying not to cry. I refuse to give the Shining Twins the satisfaction. I’ll break down in the car, my room, the bathroom—somewhere with a little more dignity.

Akio shadows me. I don’t miss the way he positions his body, shielding me from the people as we exit. I wish I could tell him thank you, but I might crack and break open, all my insides spilling out. I’ve embarrassed my father. Myself. Japan.

The walk from the ballroom to the car is a blur. Mercifully, the Imperial Rolls-Royce is waiting. As soon as I’m in, we’re off.

Akio holds a handkerchief out to me. “What happened?” he asks.

I dab underneath my eyes. I don’t want to say it out loud—how big of a fuckup I am. My God, I thought … I thought I had it all figured it out. Stupid. I am so stupid. “What does gaijin mean?”

“Who called you that?” he barks out.

“It doesn’t matter.” Again, I don’t want him to know how much my family hates me. It’s all so embarrassing. “What does it mean?”

He unbuttons his suit jacket. His lips twist. “It means foreigner. And not in a good way.”

“I see.” My jaw locks.

“You will tell me who said this to you and I will take care of it.”

I’m touched by his defense. “What will you do? Beat up the other imperial princesses because they were mean to me? You’re sweet. But I prefer to fight my own battles.” Though I don’t know what kind of armor I have left. The Shining Twins managed to find my thinnest skin and tear right through it with their beige nails. “Besides, they’re not wrong…”

It’s true. I am a foreigner. If I’d lived in Japan before last week, I would have known about the prime minister’s sister. I would have known to wear a nicer outfit to the airport. I would have known to walk behind my father at the stupid craft bazaar. I would have known which artists oppose the imperial family. I would have known attending a baseball game and greeting players was an act of diplomacy, and that pointing was rude.

He harrumphs, which I didn’t know a human could actually do until now. Reaching over, I grab his hand. “It’s really okay.” It’s not, though. There is still a painful ache inside me. The disappointment in my father’s eyes, the way he spoke to me—the memory makes my stomach twist. There may be no crying in baseball, but there are definitely tears in princessing.

Akio’s fingers tighten on mine, then his hand slips away. He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “This is poor timing.” Dark eyes pin me in place. “You make me wish for all the things I shouldn’t.”

“I do?” I sniffle, feeling a little better. I lean forward, hoping he’ll take my hand again. Maybe he’ll cup my cheek and tell me everything will be all right.

“Your Highness,” he says, over-serious.

“Akio.” I match his tone, half joking. But then it registers—his body language isn’t mirroring mine. I feel the first piercing sting of rejection. I sit back. Now we’re both stiff. At odds.

“A hundred years ago, imperial physicians wouldn’t even touch the emperor or empress without gloves.” His hands ball into fists. “When a prince or princess rode through cities, villagers would avert their eyes. They were not worthy to look upon the children of gods and goddesses.”

I have a scary, icky, deep foreboding about where he’s going with this. “It’s a bit archaic, don’t you think? That doesn’t happen now.”

His face is guarded. “You’re right, it doesn’t. But the idea still exists. It’s taboo.”

“What are you saying?” My voice is small.

“I think you know what I’m saying.”

“I think I’m going to need you to say it.” When Forest cheated on me, I made him tell me all the lurid details, though I already knew most of them. I wanted to read between the lines, see if I could glean what faults of mine drove him away. Don’t we always blame ourselves?

“Our dance … it was a mistake.” Ah, I totally see it now. It’s in the set of his shoulders, in the tenseness of his jaw. Regret. My vision blurs. “I got carried away. It was my fault. I crossed a line.” So noble of him to take the blame. “It won’t—it can’t happen again.”

My fingers curl into my palms. I’d like to get out of the car now. What I wouldn’t give to be magically transported to my room. Tears start to fall, but I ignore them. All of Mariko’s work on my face, ruined. I focus out the window at the dark starless night, praying for time to move faster.

“Please don’t be upset,” he says quietly.

Izumi will be upset. Izumi will be extremely upset, thank you very much. I can’t seem to get anything right—I’m a black belt in humiliation.

“Say something,” Akio says when we arrive at the gate.

Say something? What is there to say? The winding drive up to the palace takes an eon. I use my gloves to mop up my face. Too bad they can’t clean up the mess I’ve made.