Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(50)

“I’ll stay.”

The way he says it, like a vow. I die a little inside.

Mr. Fuchigami and Mariko come into view, cutting our conversation short. On the ride back to the palace, Akio sits up front. I ride in the back with Mr. Fuchigami and Mariko.

“Mariko, do you have a pen and paper?”

She’s curious, but doesn’t ask questions. She digs around and produces a pad and pencil from her purse. Part of her job is to be prepared. She’s got all sorts of marvelous things in her handbag: needle and thread, mints, tampons, even cash. The imperial family doesn’t carry any money. Everything is paid for by the Imperial Household Agency. But I do have an emergency credit card from my mom. Just in case.

I scribble something on the paper and fold it in half. “Mr. Fuchigami.” I hand him the paper.

He unfolds it and reads, caterpillar eyebrows inching up his forehead. “This isn’t something that’s normally done.” I can’t read his tone. It’s either you’ve-got-some-goddamn-nerve or I-unwillingly-respect-this-act-of-kindness. Could be either.

“Onegai shimasu,” I say. Please. My lashes lower. My heart is caught up somewhere near my tonsils. Do this one thing for me. For Akio. For his family.

He stuffs the note in his breast pocket. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Arigatō.” I bow my head to him.





21


Mariko goes off on an etiquette tangent for most of the ride back to the palace. It’s all about how Shirasu failed to execute a full forty-five degree bow when saying goodbye. Her rant is rounding ninety minutes. Must be some sort of record. Truly. We’re on imperial property now, gates shutting firmly behind us. The grounds are elaborate and well kept, gardens manicured with potted bonsai trees, all in keeping with the swept-back-in-time theme of old Kyoto.

“I’m pretty sure he has a bad back,” I say helpfully. Honestly, I’m only half-listening as I text my mom and the AGG. Mom has sent her daily check-in. How are you? I respond with a Great and a scenic picture of the bamboo forest. Noora is on some sort of campaign to normalize men wearing short-shorts. I give her two thumbs-up.

“Even so,” Mariko says, and I can hear the frown in her voice. “Don’t you think he should have—”

I look up and cry out. Cars line the driveway, their trunks propped open. Staff in white gloves unpack monogrammed luggage. There is Yoshi, right in the middle of it all, dashing and resplendent in the sunlight.

“What’s he doing here?” Mariko says bewildered. “He’s not on the schedule.” She’s flipping through documents on her phone. Royal itineraries are shared—meaning, every morning, an email is sent from the Imperial Household Agency detailing every family member’s movements.

I unbuckle my seat belt and scramble from the car. Mr. Fuchigami hisses through his teeth. I throw a sorry over my shoulder as I exit the vehicle. I run to Yoshi and stop short. He grins and opens his arms. I throw myself at him and he catches me in a fierce, smothering hug. “What a very enthusiastic American response,” he says holding me close, then adds warmly, “Public affection isn’t a thing in Japan, though I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your spirit.” He squeezes me before letting go.

I squint up at him. His jacket and matching crossover tie have gold threads and … do I detect glitter in his hair?

“What are you doing here?” I ask, watching Mariko and Mr. Fuchigami climb from the car. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

We’ve texted, of course. I told him all about the PM and the Shining Twins. He commiserated, telling me Noriko peed herself in kindergarten because she was too embarrassed to ask to go to the bathroom and that Akiko wouldn’t stop eating glue. There was a whole meeting about it—chamberlains, teachers, and a variety of behavioral experts were called to weigh in.

“I’ve come to visit, of course. Hardly seems fair you’re having all the fun in the countryside.” His gaze focuses downward. He groans, pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing nude pantyhose. The situation is much more dire than I thought. Seems I’ve arrived just in time.” He smiles at my laugh. Goodness, it’s good to see him.

“Your Highness.” Mr. Fuchigami moseys over to us, buttoning his suit jacket. “We weren’t expecting you.”

Mariko frowns. She heard his comment about the pantyhose, no doubt. Each morning, my lady-in-waiting painstakingly chooses my outfit.

Yoshi winks at the chamberlain. “That’s the fun of it. It’s a surprise. I’m delightful that way.”

“Your chamberlain, Mr. Wakabayashi. Has he accompanied you?” Mr. Fuchigami asks, unflappable.

Yoshi waves a hand. “He’s inside somewhere…” He trails off, eyes cutting down the line of cars. Reina and Akio stand inches from each other, discussing something. “Your bodyguard is standing very close to mine. What do you suppose they’re talking about?”

“They’re probably discussing security.” My smile is so wide it hurts.

“No,” he says, offhandedly. “Reina is probably vision boarding my funeral. She’s angry with me. All because I spoke with her through the door while she was using the toilet. I don’t know why she doesn’t like that. I feel like it makes us closer, you know?”