Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(62)
The empress approaches me. “You will do well here,” she says.
I feel like it’s my obligation to be honest. I discard Mariko’s advice. “My time here has not been without a few hiccups, Your Majesty.”
“No. You will do well. Not only do I predict it, I deem it so.”
Well, hard to argue with that. She leaves, trailing behind the emperor.
My father leans down and whispers, “You survived.”
It’s over. I breathe deeply, and it’s like the first inhale after you dive to the bottom of the pool and swim frantically to the surface.
My father begins to walk. I stay behind, planning to follow in a minute and take my place in the rafters. But then, a murmur runs through the crowd. The empress has stopped at the door. She speaks earnestly to the emperor and he agrees with a solid nod. Hearing them, my father returns to my side. “Their Majesties request their entire family be present on the balcony.” His smile is wide, proud, and contagious. “A new tradition.”
My hands flutter at my sides. My heart lodges in my throat. Words are impossible.
The hall is lined with various officials, men in suits, guards in full regalia, and the rest of the imperial family. It’s a commotion as they’re informed of the new plan: all of the family will join on the balcony. The emperor and empress lead. My father and I fall in line behind them. Then my Uncle Nobuhito and his daughters, the Shining Twins. His wife, their mother, is absent. No one remarks on it. Then come Uncle Yasuhito and Auntie Asako, followed by their children: Sachiko, Masahito, and Yoshi, who winks at me. The imperial procession carries on.
A set of double doors are opened by imperial guards in dashing green uniforms, red ropes around their shoulders. They salute. Forty-five thousand people have gathered outside to wish the emperor well.
The emperor goes first, then the empress. We all take our places beside them: My father to his immediate left. Me next to him. All others on the empress’s side. We’re behind bulletproof glass, but it does little to hinder the noise. It is deafening, alive, and charged. Thousands of Hinomaru flags wave in the air. The emperor speaks into two microphones. He gives a speech, thanking the people for coming to wish him well on his birthday. In turn, he wishes them health and happiness. This delights the spectators. He steps back and waves.
The crowd chants TennÅ Heika. Heavenly sovereign. They grow louder still, clapping, shouting, merrymaking. I wave along with my relatives. Together. As one. Joy bubbles in my chest. Pride, too. This is destiny. It cannot be any clearer. I am meant to be here. This is where I belong.
26
A celebratory luncheon is served in the banquet hall. I sit with my cousins minus the Shining Twins, whose seats are empty. Tables are draped in swaths of white linen and set with crystal and china. Low flower arrangements display golden chrysanthemums. Chandeliers cast a warm glow, and chilled, chrysanthemum-soaked sake is served. Toasts for longevity are made. The emperor sits at the head of the table, my father next to him. The prime minister is present as well; upon entering, I inclined my head to him, and he bowed. All is well. The mood is jolly.
“All I’m saying is”—Yoshi uses his fork to push a bit of pork with brown sauce around his plate—“you should consider releasing bald eagles instead of doves at your wedding. You know, as an homage to our fair American cousin here.” My laugh spurs Yoshi on. “We’d have to have them imported from the States, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I am one hundred percent sure Fish and Wildlife Services would not go for that,” I pipe in.
“Chickens then, maybe? Wasn’t that supposed to be the national bird?” Yoshi asks.
Masahito sighs, slumps back in his chair, and throws his napkin on top of his plate. “Turkey. The national bird for the United States was supposed to be the turkey.”
“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem,” says Yoshi. “Turkey it is. They don’t fly and aren’t nearly as magnificent, but I guess in a pinch, they’ll do.”
Sachiko rolls her eyes. “I’m not releasing doves, eagles, or turkeys at my wedding.”
“Yes,” Ryu chirps. “Save the idea for your own wedding, Yoshi. Whoever the very unfortunate girl may be.”
Yoshi pouts and frowns at the same time. “Don’t blame me when the wedding is a bore. You could’ve had turkeys.”
I wipe the corners of my mouth, take a sip of sake, and let my eyes scan the room. The wall behind the emperor is papered in silk, the print a blazing sunset. White-gloved servers line the walls alongside imperial guards. I find him. Our eyes connect, then dart away.
Slowly, I stand. “Excuse me.”
“Can’t hold her sake,” Yoshi announces at my departure.
The hall is quiet, but there are a few stragglers—a dignitary speaking on the phone, a couple of chamberlains squabbling over schedules, the Shining Twins’ ladies-in-waiting … huh. They’re blocking the bathroom, as if guarding it. Curious. One holds a glass of water in her hand and opens the door. I glimpse the Shining Twins bent over a woman. Their mother. Midori. Her hands are pressed against her head. She is dressed to the nines in a silk gown, but it is clear she is unraveling. Harsh words are muttered lowly and the lady-in-waiting retreats, water untouched. My steps slow. Pause. Then I’m turning. The ladies-in-waiting stand shoulder to shoulder as if to stop me from entering. Like there’s a chance of that. I look sharply at them, let the weight of my stare settle on their shoulders. They part, gazes downcast.