Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(80)

What about Princess Izumi? There have been discussions in the past about a female inheriting the Chrysanthemum throne. Could she picture herself as empress? “I don’t know,” she says, completely forthright. “I’m just trying to get a hang of being a princess for now.”

Whatever the future holds for HIH Princess Izumi, one thing is sure: her father approves. But more importantly, it seems this Princess approves of herself. That’s something we can all applaud.

Read next week for part two of the article, where HIH Crown Prince Toshihito joins the conversation.





37


Turns out, Tokyo is a city of romantics, forgiveness, and graciousness. Since the Women Now! article published, stuffed bears, lanterns, origami, plates of dorayaki, and notes have been placed outside the gates. The guards bring them in by the armload, sifting through to make sure there are no security risks—like a kawaii doll with laser beams for eyes—and bring them to me. It’s mostly from teenage girls. Their notes are in the shape of hearts and express their undying support of my non-relationship with Akio. There are other letters, too, from Japanese born abroad who identify with my story and who want to share their own. The response is overwhelming. I never thought I’d ignite such a flame. I’m committed to writing back to everyone who has left an address. Mr. Fuchigami does not like it. But he has left time in my schedule for me to respond. So, there.

“Oh, this is an invitation to someone’s wedding,” Mariko says, holding up a piece of card stock with elegant writing. I’ve enlisted the aid of my lady-in-waiting to sort through the piles.

“Put it in the miscellaneous stack,” I say.

“What about this one?” Mariko holds up a note tied to a bunch of flowers. “It’s an actual marriage proposal to you.” She flips it open. “He states his income is more than five million yen per year. Oh! He’s left a picture. He’s not completely unfortunate-looking.” She flashes me the photo. He’s twice my age with a lump of dark hair in bad need of a cut.

“Miscellaneous,” I say rubbing my temples. I may have bitten off more than I could chew. Mom offered to stay to help, but I could tell she was anxious to return to the States. All the media surrounding me had given her a serious case of the hermits (i.e., an undeniable urge to stow away in your home, shut all the blinds and drink unfiltered bathwater). Dad is going to visit her soon. I’ll be going with him. The two are giving the term baby steps a new definition. It is beyond.

“Things keep getting stranger and stranger,” Mariko remarks. She’s opened a small box. The remnants of gold wrapping paper cling to it—the imperial guards most likely unwrapped it first.

“What is it?” I keep working on the note I’m writing. “If it’s more dorayaki, it has to be donated. We don’t have room to store it all.”

“It’s a key chain with your name on it.”

Slowly, I raise my head, peering at the item dangling from Mariko’s blunt fingers.

She digs around in the box. “There’s a note.”

I’m out of my chair. “Let me see.” I take the key chain and piece of paper from her. It’s wooden, and a rainbow has been painted on it. My name has been carved into it as well. Clearly homemade. Personal. I’d told Akio about this in Kyoto the night of our walk, our first kiss. What had he said? I wish I could take your sorrows and bury them deep. I turn it around in my hands, then read the note.

Now I understand

It is all so clear to me

Against, wind, rain, sleet

I stopped believing in love

Until I saw the leaves fall



It’s from him. As sure as the earth rotates around the sun, I know Akio’s hands have touched this. My heart beats fast, climbing up in my throat. “When was this delivered?” I don’t wait for her to answer. I’m already walking, slipping on a pair of shoes and leaving out the front door. Reina is there. She accepted my position as my new head guard. She’s been dragging boxes of notes from the gates every hour to me.

She bows to me outside. “Your Highness.”

I don’t stop. Can’t stop. There is fire nipping at my heels. I’m racing to the gates. Reina is behind me. Then she’s beside me. You know, because I’m a slow runner and all.

“Not really dressed for a jog,” she says.

I’m wearing a pair of slacks and a silk blouse. I finally convinced Mariko about the merits of pants, which are pockets, comfort, and the ability to get out of the car like a person. More guards form in my wake. The closer we get to the gate, the more the security presence intensifies. The key chain is in my hand. It’s silly to be racing off like this. I’m sure I’m bound to walk the disappointment plank again. Akio couldn’t possibly be waiting for me. But he might be. The stitches I closed up my heart with are bursting. There’s still room in there for him. There will always be room in there for him.

I slow down when the gates are in sight. It’s nearly evening. The crowd has dispersed. Imperial guards have no choice but to open the gate lest I crash into it.

“No. No. No,” Reina is adamant.

“I’m sorry,” I call back. “Don’t be angry with me. It’s for love!”

All at once, I’m on the sidewalk, and I’m noticed. Momentary surprise keeps the stragglers from growing into a crowd. Imperial guards form a barrier around me. Time stills and slows. I walk along the gate, smile and nod at the people. Pretend this is all part of a plan. I clutch the key chain in my palm, searching for a tall, dark-haired former guard with emotive eyebrows.