Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(52)

My eyes flick to Akio. He stands near the entrance alongside Reina. Discreetly, he pulls his phone from his pocket, checks it, and glowers. Whoa, glad I’m not the messenger. But then, he turns that frown on me. What did I do? I rack my brain. Nothing comes to mind.

Oh, there is one thing. The favor I asked of Mr. Fuchigami. But why would Akio be upset about that?

Yoshi waves a hand and says, “I know you adore me, so this may come as a shock. But I’m a bit of a black sheep.”

I pretend to be surprised. “You don’t say?”

He pats my hand. “Please don’t think poorly of me. It’s the press. I’ve been treated quite unfairly. Youngest children are always so misunderstood. If only people could see inside. I’m very sensitive, you know. It’s just that I don’t like rules. Or being a prince. I want to be free of my gilded cage. Does that make me an awful walking cliché?”

“I’m afraid it does.”

“Right. As for my media image, I’d like to keep the godlike adoration. But I’d like them to also be a little frightened of me, too. Like I’ll unleash a host of plagues if I become displeased.”

“Ah. You want to be viewed as an immature jerk who throws temper tantrums?”

A ghost of a smile appears on Yoshi’s face. “You’re right. That’s not good, either. Thanks for keeping my head on straight. I need to get something named after me. Maybe a hospital or a library. Something that says: ‘a soft, giving heart beats inside this large masculine chest.’”

I laugh. The third and fourth courses are served—sashimi, then pickled clams and roasted Kawachi duck. “Yoshi,” I say, feeling the gentle pace of the evening, how the meal unfurls like a fan slowly opening, each rib revealing a new part of the picture.

“Izumi,” he says.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re my friend. Thank you.”

His eyes are a bit guarded. Maybe the serious stuff doesn’t come easy. Last time we had a heart-to-heart, we were knee-deep in alcohol. But now, it’s just us. Two sober people at a table in a quiet room. But then, he admits quietly, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

After dinner, we wait outside the restaurant while Yoshi takes a phone call from his friend Jutaro (the former aristocrat who moonlights as a wild boar dealer). I wander, my legs are stiff from sitting seiza. There’s a little fishpond with a tinkling waterfall.

“I received an interesting message while at dinner.”

I startle at Akio’s voice. “Did you?”

He walks slowly toward me. “It seems a royal physician paid a visit to my mother.”

“You don’t say?”

He makes a noise in his throat. “There’s more.”

“I can’t imagine.”

His eyes drop to me, long lashes creating half-moons on his cheeks. It’s really unfair. Mariko has to curl and lather mine in mascara for the same effect. All the best things are always wasted on boys. “Seems she’s to be treated at the imperial hospital from now on.”

“What wonderful news.” I smile at him. Mr. Fuchigami came through.

“I owe you a debt,” he says, voice low and hypnotic.

I play it off, wave a hand. “Pshh. As I’ve stated before, I’m a big fan of mothers.”

“I feel as if you’ve given me so much. I don’t know how to repay you.”

I stare at the sky. I’ve always been uncomfortable with compliments, though I have a pathological need for them. “There are so many stars out tonight.”

“Your Highness,” he says softly.

I look at him. “Yes?”

He steps closer. “I’m in your debt.”

Silence hangs in the air between us. It’s cold but I feel warm, like a rock baking in the sun. The restaurant door opens. Yoshi steps out, his gaze flickering between Akio and me.

Akio steps away. “It’s settled then,” he says, opening the car door. Then, he smiles. It shimmers in the night. Vibrates off him in waves. Ensnares me, forces me to reciprocate.

I try to keep my heart from racing. “Perfect,” I rasp, though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. Not sure at all. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s all good. Better than good. Kind of wonderful.



* * *



The peaceful mood from dinner continues in the car. The streets of Kyoto are nearly empty, the ride is smooth, and the company is pleasant. Akio drives, and Reina rides shotgun. I’m in back with Yoshi. The ferret is curled in his lap and he strokes it absently, lost in thought.

About a block away from the palace, the car slows to a stop. Akio and Reina’s heads dip toward each other. In low, serious voices, they discuss something.

I perk up, trying to see past them. The street is lit funny, not by the usual yellow street lamps. The glow is softer, more orange and hazy. “What’s happening?”

Akio touches his earpiece. “The road is blocked.” His head moves and I see the disruption. People have gathered in the street. Each of them cradles a paper lantern in their hands. It’s like they’re holding little moons.

“What is it?” I ask. Did we miss a festival?

“They’re here for you, Your Highness,” says Reina. It’s the first time she’s ever spoken directly to me. Her voice is dry, husky. Soothing. “It seems they gathered an hour ago and have been waiting for you since.”