Chapter 14

14

I find myself with a day off. Rare. Unprecedented. Inconceivable. Mr. Fuchigami says I may go anywhere in Tokyo. And I know exactly where I want to spend the day: the Imperial Dog Kennels. Honestly, it’s needed. It’s really needed. Even though Akio told me The Tokyo Tattler was beneath me, it’s been hard to get the article off my mind, hard not to overthink everything I might do wrong. Tomorrow kicks off a series of events. I’ll accompany my father to assorted public outings. Cameras and press will be present, a soft launch of sorts before the prime minister’s wedding. My nerves are frayed. What will the press say about me? I smiled too much? I didn’t smile enough? A royal puppy pile is definitely in order.

Now we’re en route. It’s a fine day, the sun bright, not a cloud in the sky. Cherry blossoms have finally bloomed and weigh heavy on branches. Mariko sits beside me, the stink of I’d-much-rather-be-anywhere-else radiating from her body. There is also a lint roller noticeably tucked into her purse and a pack of tissues because dogs make her “sneeze.” Akio is across from us. He is distracted, a bit off today. More grumpy than usual. Every couple of minutes, his phone buzzes, and he swipes to ignore, but he doesn’t turn it off. Have I mentioned his scowl? It is noteworthy.

I wonder if maybe it’s his girlfriend. He’s never mentioned one. I imagine the woman Akio might date, his female equivalent. I know the type. I’ve seen her in comic books and action movies before. Beautiful. Deadly. Plays war games for fun. His phone buzzes again.

“Is something wrong?” I ask finally.

He shakes his head once. “Nothing, Your Highness.” His grip on the phone tightens.

Mariko speaks to him in Japanese. I frown at her. I don’t like it when she does this, and she does it often, on purpose, to cut me out of the conversation. Worse is when I can tell she’s speaking about me, because I hear my name interspliced between angry-sounding words. This time my name doesn’t tumble from her lips, but I do understand one word: okāsan. Mother.

Akio’s response is clipped, terse.

Mariko’s mouth dips in concern.

Now I have to know what is going on. I nudge my lady-in-waiting. She whips her elbow away from me and holds it, rubbing it like I’ve hurt her. “What’s going on?” I ask lowly.

“Everything is fine,” says Mariko. Clearly, it is not.

I direct my stare at Akio. “Is something wrong with your mother?”

His posture is rigid. “It’s really nothing, Your Highness. My mother needs medication and my father can’t leave her right now to go to the pharmacy. He is asking I pick it up. I have informed him I cannot leave work.”

“Oh.” I slump back in my seat, thinking. It’s obvious what needs to be done. “Where’s the pharmacy?”

“Pardon?” Akio says.

“The pharmacy. What is the address?” I overenunciate.

He bristles, shaking his head.

“Name and address, please,” I insist.

He says it quietly, but I hear. Before I can forget it, I roll down the partition separating the seat from the chauffeur. “There’s been a change of plans,” I say loudly. “We’re going to…” I give him the pharmacy address. “Then we’re going to…” I turn to Akio. “What’s your home address?”

“I don’t think—”

Mariko chimes in, “He lives in Kichijōji, near the temple.” At Akio’s WTF look, Mariko says, “If that’s where the princess wants to go, that’s where we’ll go.”

Akio chews on the situation, and after several moments, he spits out, “Ten minutes at the pharmacy and ten minutes at my parents’ house. Then we’ll go to the imperial kennels.”

I shrug. “Whatever you say.” I remember our conversation on the porch back at the palace. Technically, I am the boss of you. “You’re the boss, after all.”

“This is a kind thing you’re doing,” Mariko says, a bit begrudgingly. “Our parents know one another. My mother worked as a lady-in-waiting while his father was an imperial guard. What’s happening to his mother…” She trails off. “It’s so unfair.”

I swallow. It’s the first kind word Mariko has ever said to me, and it’s making me emotional. “That’s nice of you to say.”

Mariko harrumphs, remembering she doesn’t like me. “Yeah, well. Anything to avoid the kennels, I guess.”

The car door swings open and Akio is back inside the car, plastic bag in hand.

Half an hour later, we’re pulling up alongside a curb to a little house situated between two concrete towers. Beyond the gate, a tall man with sparse gray hair peeks through the curtains. Akio’s father. They share the same flat-lined mouth and hooded eyes. Good to know broody eyebrows run in the family.

The screen on Akio’s phone lights up. “My father sees the imperial vehicle and knows you’re inside. He offers his hospitality. Don’t worry. I’ll make excuses.” Akio starts to climb from the car. I follow after waiting a beat for Mariko, who shakes her head. Fine, she can stay in the vehicle.

Akio doesn’t notice me. I’ll be damned. He really does believe when he gives an order that it’s blindly obeyed. He goes through the gate and I catch it. His steps echo on the mossy flagstones, and mine do, too. He whips around. “You’re not in the car.”

“Yes, Akio, I would love to meet your parents and see your childhood home. Thank you so much for asking.” I smile at his face, blinking back.

“My mother is ill.”

“I gathered as much. Is she contagious? Is there a concern for my health and safety? Or hers?”

His head shakes. “No. But—”

“Then please…” I stick out a hand, my grin stretching. “Lead the way.”

He sighs through his nose very loudly before resuming course. His father greets us at the door, bowing low, then hops off to brew tea after making me comfortable in the living room. Once I’m settled, Akio disappears down the hall, white bag in hand.

Of course, I don’t stay where I’m put. The room is simply furnished—a navy couch and wooden chair with clean lines. Shelves of books line a wall and are crammed with various texts, the brightly colored spines adding splashes of color.

There are framed photos pinned up in the hall, and I walk over to them. It’s a timeline of Akio’s life. Akio as a newborn, toddler, preschooler, and it’s true: his cheeks are those of a squirrel hiding nuts. What counteracts the adorableness is Akio’s tiny frown. So he’s been that way since birth. Next, I come to a large photograph of his elementary school entrance ceremony. His mom wears a kimono, his dad a suit, and Akio sports a brand new randoseru, a hard-sided backpack. I keep going, and note he’s an only child. Ha! I knew it. We can smell our own. It’s probably why we butt heads so much. We’re used to getting our own way. I’m probably better at sharing, though. Noora would totally corroborate. The last photo is recent, one of him looking dashing in an imperial guard uniform. His parents stand by his side, beaming with pride.

At the end of the hall, there are two doors. Both are cracked open. In one, I see Akio’s back. He’s folded his big body into a chair and sits next to a bed. Holding his mother’s hand, he speaks softly to her. He turns and I dart into the other room.

There is a futon, television, and desk. Posters are tacked up. Model planes litter every available surface. I touch the nose of one, sending the propeller whirring.

“This used to be my room.” I startle at Akio’s voice.

“Used to be?” A fine layer of dust coats the shelves.

“I live on the imperial grounds. Staff housing.”

I nod vacantly. Though I’m surprised. Seems I haven’t put enough thought into getting to know my imperial guard. No time like the present, I guess. “Model planes, huh?” He’s silent. Okay, another topic then. “Is your mother all right?”

“She’s fine.” He steps into the room. The door is still partially shut. It’s so quiet in the house. It feels like we’re alone. Like we’re the only two people in the universe. “She has early onset dementia.” With one finger, he stops the propeller from spinning. “My father retired from the imperial guard for her. Now he spends his days as a nursemaid, filling the holes in her memory.”

“I’m sorry.”

Another shrug, like it means nothing. Nothing at all. But I imagine it’s a terrible weight to carry. “She has good days and bad days. Sometimes she wanders. He doesn’t like to leave her alone.” He pauses. “Thank you for this.”

It’s my turn to shrug. “Of course. I’m a big fan of moms in general.” Well, all women, really, because we’re awesome. The corner of his mouth tugs up. It’s nice to see him smile again. It means something to me, making him happy. I look at my shoes. “You know, I thought, maybe it was your girlfriend calling you.”

He sounds amused when he answers. “Did you?”

I risk a glance up. Yep, definitely amused. “It’s not that it matters to me, per se. But I guess I should know if you have other commitments that might distract from your job.” I purse my lips. Scan the room. Act casual.

“A girlfriend wouldn’t distract me. I wouldn’t let it,” he explains. Probably true. “But for the record, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

My lips twitch, but I contain the grin.

“What about you? Do you have someone at home?” His voice is light, casual. “Someone that might distract from your imperial duties? I guess I should know that as well, just in case, for security purposes.”

Fair is fair. “No. I had a boyfriend, but we broke up a year ago. He took way too many mirror selfies.” For the record, one is too many.

He makes a strange expression. “I’ve never taken a mirror selfie.”

“Good to know.”

I’ve made a full lap around the room. I’m back in front of Akio now. On the wall behind him are photo collages of Akio at different ages with friends and teachers.

“I’ve never even taken a selfie,” he says.

“Even better.” Although my phone is full of them. Mostly Noora and me hamming it up, pretending to pinch Mount Shasta between our pointer finger and thumb. I study a green plane with a silver body and yellow stripes on the wings.

“That’s a Mitsubishi A6M Zero, flown during the war. The majority were converted to kamikaze aircraft toward the end.”

I am familiar with the term. Kamikaze. Divine wind. My mind fills with images of planes twisting from the sky like angry hornets from a nest, then exploding on impact, pilots still inside them. “Would you do that?”

He blinks. “Die for my country? Yes, I would.” It must be a requirement of being an imperial guard. The thought of Akio taking a bullet for me is too much. My throat is dry. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. “Mariko said your parents worked with hers.”

“Most of the imperial positions are legacies, handed down over time.”

“Like the monarchy,” I say.

“Yes.”

Another thing we have in common. We were born to play certain roles. Our destinies were predetermined.

We’re standing close now. For a long time, he stares at me. I wonder if he feels it, too, this wall of electricity. I start to get self-conscious. “Is there something on my face?” I wipe my cheek, searching out crumbs or a smear of blush gone wrong. What am I saying? Mariko would never allow that to happen.

A headshake. “No.”

“What’s the look for, then?” We’ve drifted even closer, chests almost touching. I stroke the inside of my palms with my thumbs. Our breaths have synced.

“I’m just trying to figure you out.”

Is that all? “Good luck. Better men than you have tried.” Not true. For a princess I’ve kissed a fair number of frogs. My voice lowers. “Let me know when you’ve got an idea.”

“I thought you were a bit silly at first.” Wow. Give it to me straight. “But I was wrong.… I think you’re very serious about the things you care about. I think you lead with your heart.”

We gaze at each other.

A throat clears at the door. Much like the night in the car, we spring away. The wall of electricity fizzles out. Akio’s father speaks in Japanese.

“Tea is ready,” says Akio roughly.

Tea is served in the living room, brilliant green ocha in a blue china glazed bowl. As we sip, I steal looks at Akio, blush, and turn away. His last words repeat in my head.

I think you lead with your heart.

THE TOKYO TATTLER

Spotted: The Lost Butterfly and Crown Prince Father around the town

April 2, 2021

While Their Imperial Majesties Emperor and Empress Takehito are out of the country on an official visit to Vietnam, their son His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Toshihito has stepped out on the town in a flurry of unofficial public events with his daughter, Her Imperial Highness Princess Izumi.

On Monday, the two attended the 42nd Asia-Pacific Festival and Charity Bazaar in Tokyo. While walking and viewing, the princess went ahead of her father to greet His Excellency Ambassador Sam Sorm at the Royal Embassy of Cambodia handicraft booth—a literal misstep. Guess no one informed the princess that she should have waited for her father, the Crown Prince, to say hello to his Excellency first. It’s most likely the princess was merely honoring one of her own American traditions. Ladies first, isn’t that what Westerners often say?

On Wednesday, the two attended a gallery opening. Princess Izumi struck up a conversation with attendee and controversial artist Yoko Foujita, who has been a critical opponent of the imperial family. Imperial Household handlers were quick to curtail the conversation, but The Tokyo Tattler managed to get an exclusive picture of the two chatting (see inset).

Finally, on Thursday, the father-daughter duo was spotted at the opening season baseball game. They were seen in the imperial box, wearing matching hats and sharing a cup of kakigōri (see inset, picture of HIH Princess Izumi pointing at the players). Later, the two greeted the opposing teams, and the princess seemed to favor one of the players too long.

Prime Minister Adachi’s wedding is up next—the entire imperial family will be attending officially, with the exception of the emperor and empress. One person not on the guest list? The prime minister’s sister, Sadako Adachi. The two have been embroiled in a nasty feud since Sadako penned a scathing tell-all accusing the prime minister of infidelity and having ties to the yakuza. It’s rumored the prime minister fired a staffer for mentioning his sister in his presence. Too bad reporters won’t be allowed inside the überposh wedding and reception. Like the rest of Tokyo, we’ll only be able to watch from the sidelines. But what a view it promises to be …