Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(55)

He cocks his head. “Just tonight?”

“Just tonight,” I whisper.

“All right, then.” He holds out a hand for me.

I close my fingers around his. I am breathless. The night seems blissfully endless. He uses our joined hands to pull me closer. I can feel the heat radiating from his chest.

Ever so slowly, he brings his lips to the shell of my ear. “I like you in my sweatshirt.”

“Oh?”

His hands come to my hips and slide up.

“That’s good, because I plan on keeping it,” I croak, my throat in danger of closing. Air. I need air. His fingers trace the outside of the sweatshirt, over my collarbones.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were silly.” His thumbs caress my cheeks. “I was such a fool, I couldn’t see how wonderful you are.”

I finger the buttons on his fine shirt. I need to get something off my chest. “While we’re on the subject of past grievances, I think I ought to inform you that when I first arrived I took your headshot out of the dossier and blacked out some of your teeth.”

He chuckles but stays close, the warmth of his touch bleeding through the fabric of my clothes. We sway back and forth, dancing to the tune of the tinkling water. “Did you?”

I wince. Hide my face in his chest. “That’s not all. I also drew on a pair of penis earrings. They were really charming, actually. Dainty and classy. Not overdone at all.”

He nods sagely. “That’s good to know. Anything bigger would have been much too gaudy.”

My mouth twitches. I look up. “I’m very sorry.”

After a blistering moment of silence, he asks, “Anything else?” His eyes glitter, feverish and bright.

I shake my head. “No. I don’t think so.”

He cups my cheek. “Good. Because I’m going to kiss you now.”

Akio is a man of his word. Slowly, softly, sweetly, he presses his lips to the corner of my mouth, then the other corner. He pulls back, smiles, and lets out a breath. My heart swan dives with disappointment. “Is that all—”

He swoops down. I tighten my hold on him, understanding the term swept away. Our noses bump. Our mouths connect. I feel his stubble, the flutter of his lashes against my skin. There’s a sort of push and pull to it. He exhales, and I inhale.

The noises fade into silence. It’s just us. Izumi. Akio. One perfect evening.





23


Yoshi stays a few more days. We pal around the city, taking in the local sites, wandering narrow streets lined by small shops capped with ceramic tile roofs. Two nights in a row, we dine at McDonalds, ordering shrimp burgers, chicken sandwiches, sweet corn, and shaka-chicki—fried chicken in a paper bag with a choice of seasonings. The fun is over after forty hours.

We return to Tokyo together. The train ride is eventful. Midway through, Yoshi’s ferret escapes the crate and causes a stir. I don’t enjoy watching the imperial guards chase the thing through cars. Much.

“I’m going to make a fur coat out of that rodent,” Reina threatens, resuming her seat. Sweat dots her forehead, and there are little pieces of white fur all over her black suit. An imperial guard has the ferret by two hands and is wrestling it back into its monogrammed leather carrier.

Yoshi pouts. “I can’t believe you’d do such a thing to our love child.”

Reina doesn’t reply, but her narrow-eyed gaze totally speaks volumes. I seriously hope you die.

I rise from the plush velvet purple seat, pluck a can of Pocari Sweat from the bar, and seek out Akio in between the cars.

“Your Highness.” He bows. I like how his voice has changed with me. It’s lower. Softer. Warmer. He’s back in his suit, buttoned up and perfect. But now, I know what that starched collar feels like crushed under my fingertips.

I crack the can open and offer it to him. “Pretty sure Reina has reached her limit with Yoshi.” He takes the can from me. Our hands brush and we hold still. One. Two. Three seconds. We break apart.

“Gimu,” I say forlornly, bringing us both back to earth. Not here. Not now. Maybe never again.

“Right. Gimu.” He clears his throat.

I turn and head back for the carriage. “Izumi.” I pause. Don’t turn. But I’m all lit up inside remembering our searing kiss. A piece of paper is pressed into my palm. I wrap my fist around it.

Back in the carriage, I find a seat in the corner and curl up, my back to the car. Very carefully, I unwrap it. It’s five lines. Thirty-one syllables. A waka, a poem, from Akio.

The earth forgets but

I will always remember

Karaoke bars

Pharmacies and cups of tea

And plates of dorayaki



When we arrive at the station, Yoshi and I are whisked away in separate directions.

I’m headed to the Imperial Palace. The streets are dressed up in red banners and golden chrysanthemums, preparations for the emperor’s birthday. There’s a definite buzz in the air, all meant to induce happy chemicals, all meant to lead one to believe the world is a marvelous place. Still, my stomach rolls, nervous. Kyoto seemed easy in comparison to Tokyo, especially given that I still haven’t really spoken to my father, who has since returned. We’ve texted, but I’ve kept my responses to vague, generic answers. I’m not angry anymore, but some things are better said in person. Or maybe I was just avoiding the confrontation.… Yeah, that’s more likely. Totally on-brand. On the seat next to me is a rolled scroll tied with a red rope, a gift for him.