TWENTY

“What are you doing here?” Craig demands of me. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

My temper stirs—I swear I can feel my nure-onna waking up, lifting her head.

But before it can fully ignite, Auntie Suzy steps in front of me.

“She hasn’t done anything,” she says—and her voice has so much steel in it, I do a double take. I have never heard Auntie Suzy—permanently exhausted, absentminded, “don’t rock the boat” Auntie Suzy—address someone with so much fire. “And if you want to talk about ‘trouble,’ Craig Shimizu, I would suggest you take a good, hard look at your own actions and delete all the bullshit you’ve been spewing online about my family.”

The room falls completely silent—save for Rory murmuring “Daaaaaamn” under her breath.

I’m with her, but I’m way too shocked to say anything. Auntie Suzy’s hands are planted on her hips, her spine is ramrod straight, and her eyes flash with something I’ve never quite seen before. It’s like she’s regaining all her witchy powers right before my eyes.

Surprise crosses Craig’s face, then he quickly coaxes his expression back into its usual smirk.

“Everything I posted is true—and for the sake of our community, I’m just so relieved all your family’s disgusting scandals are finally exposed. That none of you will be part of Nikkei Week and our great traditions now.” He sneers at me. “I knew you’d disgrace us all at some point—didn’t realize you’d be so stupid about it, though, toting the proof around in your pocket, where it could just”—his eyes drift to the floor of Katsu That—“fall out. Right where anyone could see it.”

“You . . . you took my pictures,” I murmur, the puzzle pieces snapping together. “They must have fallen out of my pocket that day when Henry was here and . . .” I shake my head. “You gave them to some gossip site?”

He shrugs, his smile widening. Clearly enjoying himself. “Just doing my part to take out the trash.”

A piercing cry rings out through the restaurant—and before I know what’s happening, a tiny figure zips through the crowd and launches herself directly at Craig Shimizu.

“No, Rory!” I shriek, throwing my arms around her and pulling her back before she makes contact.

“Don’t!” she screams, thrashing in my embrace. “I’m going to kill him!”

“No, you’re not,” I say, shoving her squirming form toward Auntie Och, who gathers her up.

I turn back to Craig and step forward, as if shielding my family, still clad in my ridiculous princess dress.

“Your problem is with me,” I say, rage sparking in my chest. But I don’t try to suppress it this time. I let myself feel it. “Don’t take it out on them.”

“It’s not just you,” he says, taking a step toward me, so we’re practically nose to nose. I refuse to step back, to give an inch. “It’s your whole fucked-up family. You just happen to be the most fucked-up. And no matter how badly you want it”—he smirks again—“you will never belong here.”

My kaiju-temper roars, and I’m about to fully let him have it . . . when I feel Auntie Suzy’s hand, squeezing mine.

“Your hate doesn’t belong here,” she says to Craig, that steel in her voice again. “That’s what hurts our community more than anything.”

“You need to watch your tone,” Craig warns—and now his eyes flash with something beyond his usual smirk. Something cold and mean. “My father can make sure all of you are banned for life—”

“No, he can’t.” Belle appears on my other side, drawing herself up tall—like the queen she is. “One person doesn’t have that kind of power—we are a community, are we not?” She casts an imperious look around the room.

“Hai—yes!” Auntie Och says, her arms still wrapped around Rory, who has stopped squirming and is now leveling Craig with a death-glare. “And communities need to change and grow along with the people in them. Your father need to learn that, too.”

“That’s right,” Sensei Mary says, getting to her feet. “And he might want to remember that head of the Nikkei Week board is an elected position.” She gives him a wry smile. “Which means we can elect someone else next year.”

“Hear, hear!” Uncle Hikaru says, nodding emphatically. “What about Suzy? She cares more about Little Tokyo than anyone!”

“Mmm, it’s about time we had a woman in charge anyway,” an Auntie chimes in—and I recognize her as one of the gossiping Aunties from the mochi demonstration. “The Shimizus always want Nikkei Week to stay exactly the same—”

“Because of tradition,” Craig spits out. “W-we can’t corrupt that. And besides, my father has always been elected head of Nikkei Week—”

“Not always,” Eliza says, rolling her eyes. “Nikkei Week existed long before your father did. And we can preserve tradition while still updating it, right?”

“That’s part of community, too,” Sensei Mary agrees.

“I’ll be more than happy to accept your votes,” Auntie Suzy says, her eyes flashing.

“You can go tell your father we’ll all be at the gala tonight,” Belle says defiantly. “And if he wants to kick up a fuss . . .”

“There’s nothing he can really do about it,” Uncle Hikaru says.

“Unless he wants to ban all of us,” Rory says, gesturing around the room.

“And it really won’t be much of a gala with no one there, will it?” the mochi-demo Auntie says with a perfectly judgmental eyebrow raise.

Craig sputters, unable to get a single word out, his face turning bright red. I keep waiting for someone in the room to break ranks, to denounce me or all the Rakuyamas . . . but no one does. Everyone stands behind me, staring Craig down.

He sputters for a few moments more, his gaze finally landing on me.

“This is all your fault,” he hisses, his eyes filled with ice-cold hate. “Fucking half-breed mistake.”

My kaiju-temper sparks, sending fresh waves of rage coursing through my bloodstream. I imagine myself as the nure-onna, flames rising around me, my anger sure and true.

“No, it’s not,” I snarl. I step forward and feel a vicious twist of satisfaction when he steps back, panic crossing his face. “And I am not a mistake—that is so . . . fucked-up to even say that. A person can’t be a mistake.”

The truth of that hits me right as the words come out of my mouth. The image I saw in the JACCC mirror—that monster princess who felt so whole—swims through my consciousness. I am real. I am who I’m meant to be.

“And if you ever spew your disgusting hate at me or anyone in this family—this community—ever again, I won’t hold back,” I declare.

“What, you’ll bite me again?” he says—but his words don’t have the same heat behind them. It’s like whatever spell was keeping his noble-prince persona in place is melting away, layer by layer, and now I can see him for what he really is. First he morphs into a fairy tale villain, a sneering troll under a bridge. And then a sad little boy who isn’t doing anything with his life except drumming up drama, obeying his father’s toxic wishes, and bullying everyone “beneath” him so he can feel important.

“Any power you thought you had over me—over anyone—is gone,” I say, the fire in my chest burning brighter with every word. I bare my fangs at him, just as the nure-onna would. “I don’t have to bite you—but you know what? Don’t test me.”

I take another step forward, and he steps back again, stumbling into the entryway. I get right in his face—and despite my giant princess gown, I don’t stumble at all. In fact, the sheer grandeur of the dress makes me feel powerful—like the monster princess I am.

“Get out,” I growl. “Now.”

He stumbles out the door and into the street, his face getting redder by the second. I picture the nure-onna, smiling with the satisfaction—and a glow forms around my pulsing rage.

“Bad. Ass!” Rory shrieks, breaking loose from Auntie Och and running up to me. She throws her spindly arms around my waist and hugs me hard. “Wow, he fucking sucks!” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oops. Sorry, Moms!”

“No, Rory-chan, you are correct,” Auntie Och says, nodding vigorously. “He does fucking suck.”

“He’s no match for our Rika,” Belle says, beaming at me.

“Still fighting as hard as the day she was born,” Auntie Suzy says, her eyes lit with pride.

“Mmm, what a rude boy,” the mochi-demo Auntie murmurs. “I’ve been wanting to tell him off for years.”

I smile at all of them, my nure-onna hissing contentedly. I feel so powerful.

I slayed some kind of fairy-tale villain. And as I look around the room, I realize: I didn’t do it alone. They all stood with me. They fought with me.

They wouldn’t let me throw myself away.

“It shouldn’t have taken years to condemn such hateful attitudes!” Auntie Och exclaims, slamming a hand on one of the tables. “This nonsense we put up with for so long—all the secrets, all the shame in our community, all this making people feel like they don’t belong—it need to end now.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her regal white-streaked mane twitching indignantly. “We shouldn’t have lost Grace the way we did. Suzy always used to want us to stay hidden, make sure we don’t rock that boat. But sometimes the boat—it need to be rocked!”

“Wait . . .” I murmur, realization flashing through me. I’m remembering the day of the parade, how Auntie Och agreed way too easily to my scheme. “You put me in that yukata—in my mother’s old yukata—on purpose!”

“Hai,” she says, grinning proudly. “I knew Suzy was trying to keep you away from Grace—she wanted you working that restaurant shift because she was afraid your mother would see you.”

I shake my head, trying to process. “You both knew she was grand marshal. You thought she might recognize me . . .”

“Why this such a surprise?” Auntie Och says, giving me a look. “Listen, Rika-chan, when I put you in that yukata, I didn’t necessarily guess there would be all this chaos. But . . .” Her gaze turns sly, and now I can really see the hell-raiser she used to be. “I also don’t think chaos is bad. Like I said, communities need to change and grow along with the people in them, ne?”

“Yes,” Auntie Suzy says. “And our community needs to be way, way better about condemning attitudes like Craig’s and Uncle Taki’s.”

“That’s right,” Uncle Hikaru says, nodding at Auntie Och and Auntie Suzy. “When I think of how we all treated Grace back then, I am ashamed. She was a child, and she was ours. She deserved better.”

“We need to strike back against those who try to cast people out,” the mochi-demo Auntie says. “I can see now how this damages all of us in so many ways.”

“It tears the very fabric of the community,” Sensei Mary says. She beams at me. “I’ve always said that.”

My heart swells as I look at each person in the room in turn. Sensei Mary, who always let me take lessons at the dojo, even when I started shit with other kids and my family was short on money. Uncle Hikaru, who never batted an eye when I sat in the back of his mochi shop for hours, reading my monster stories. My family, who has always loved me unconditionally—even when they couldn’t express it exactly right.

I do belong here, and I do belong to them. I always have.

But my heart was shut up too tight to ever see it. And the more I was hurt by someone’s words . . . the more I was convinced that I was a mistake . . . the more closed-off I became.

“We need to try harder,” I say. “All of us.” I meet Belle’s eyes and smile at her, remembering her telling me that she also feels out of place sometimes—and how hard it was for me to believe that. “We all have to come together and rock the boat—so no matter how out of place people feel, they’ll never have to question whether they belong here or not.”

Auntie Suzy pulls me into another tight hug—like she’s afraid I’ll disappear all over again.

“We need to let Grace—my mother—know she’s welcome at the gala tonight,” I say. “And in Little Tokyo, period. We need to let her know that she’s part of this.” I gesture around the room. “That she always has been. And that we won’t let her go again.”

“I agree,” Uncle Hikaru says.

“Let’s welcome her home with open arms,” the mochi-demo Auntie says, jabbing a finger in the air.

“But how we find her?” Auntie Och says, frowning. “She’s in hiding.”

“Maybe I can help with that,” Joanna says, waving her phone around. In all the chaos with Craig, I’d forgotten she was here—but I feel a little jolt of pride realizing that she saw me finally channel all that anger. I meet her eyes and give her a small smile—and she beams back at me in a way that says she totally understands.

“I have a pretty big social media following,” she continues. “And hey, Rika, you do, too, now!” She gestures to her screen.

“The Secret Love Child business must have gotten me so many more followers,” I mutter, not sure how I feel about that.

“So we can blast it out there,” Joanna says, tapping on her screen. “But we’re gonna need everyone’s help—you all have to boost these posts, make sure as many people as possible see them. So we know Grace will see them, too.”

The room explodes with activity, everyone grabbing their phones and getting to work. I see Belle trying to teach Uncle Hikaru how Twitter works.

I hug Auntie Suzy one more time and slump into a chair, all the layers of my dress crumpling under me. I still can’t even process everything that’s happened today. Or even in the last hour.

I pull out my phone and make my post, urging Grace to come to the gala. I keep it short and simple: Dear Mom, please come home. We’re all waiting for you. I add the time and location of the gala, just in case she’s forgotten. Then I stare at the screen for a few minutes, as if this will make her magically appear.

As everyone buzzes around me, I feel that door to my heart crack open once more, the tiniest bit of light spilling out.

I do belong here.

I still can’t get over that.

I scan the room and catch Joanna’s eye again. She smiles at me, then goes back to her phone, brow furrowing with concentration.

I remember her telling me I don’t believe in happy endings because I don’t think I deserve one.

That’s only part of the truth, though. The other part is that I’ve always been scared to hope for one because I secretly knew it meant putting my whole heart at risk. It was so much easier to be . . . well, what I thought was the nure-onna. The nure-onna before she claimed her power, lashing out and wishing for revenge.

But now I’m starting to see that princesses and nure-onnas can be what you make of them. What you really feel inside—not just what you think you’re supposed to feel.

And I feel like I’m ready to open my heart.

There’s one more person I need to open it to. The only person who knew what was really there, buried deep inside.

I take my phone out again and tap Henry’s name in my contacts. My index finger hovers over the text window, trying to find the words.

But they won’t come. When I think of Henry, all that comes to mind are the horrible things I said to him right before abandoning him at the beach. He scared me so much . . . because he truly saw me. And he was relentless in trying to see me. He wouldn’t allow my usual armor to deflect him, refused to be cowed by my lashing out.

No matter what, he wouldn’t let me scare him away. He loved me, even though I make it so hard for people to love me. He loved me because of all the things I’ve always thought of as flaws. Not in spite of them.

And I . . .

“Are you trying to find Henry?”

Suddenly Rory appears right behind me, peering over my shoulder. I yelp and nearly drop my phone.

“I . . . yes,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter. I was awful to him. I pushed him away so hard, I—”

“He’s at the beach,” Rory interrupts.

I shake my head at her. “What?”

“We became friends,” Rory says, rolling her eyes at me. “That day he worked at Katsu That. We text each other ‘proof of life’ pictures sometimes. That’s our thing.” She grins to herself. “So I texted him this morning after the whole scandal broke and insisted he send me proof-of-life photos every hour to make sure he was safe.” She holds up her phone so I can see the screen. “See? He’s down by the Santa Monica Pier.”

I take the phone and scrutinize the screen. The photo is of the ocean, framed by sky and sand. The lights of the carnival reflect off the water, a kaleidoscope of bright colors. His face isn’t in the picture, but he’s jutting a hand into frame, as if waving to Rory.

Every feeling I’ve ever had courses through me, overwhelming all my senses—I’m at the top of the roller coaster again, right before the drop. And I know what I have to do.

“Hey, Auntie Och,” I say, waving the phone at her. “Can I borrow the car—or can you drive me to the beach?”

“What’s this?” she says, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I thought we all going to the gala . . . ?”

“We are,” I say hastily. “But I need to . . . I really want to . . .”

“Rika’s in love with Henry Chen!!!” Rory bellows. “And she has to go to him!”

Everyone falls silent, all eyes turning in my direction.

“Oh,” Auntie Och says. “Why you not just say so? I take you. I love young love!”

“I have to go, too!” Rory proclaims, grabbing my hand. “It’s because of me that she even knows where he is!”

“And I am definitely not missing any opportunity to see Rika get in touch with her mushy side,” Belle says, sidling up to me.

“Well, if everyone’s going . . .” Auntie Suzy grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Then I suppose I should as well.”

I know there’s no arguing with them, so I throw up my hands in surrender. “Let’s go, Rakuyamas.”

Auntie Och orders Uncle Hikaru to keep an eye on the restaurant, and Joanna promises to keep the Get Grace to the Gala campaign going strong. And then all the Rakuyamas pile into Auntie Och’s Mustang—Auntie Och driving, Auntie Suzy in the passenger seat, and me and my sisters crammed in the back. Belle insists on bringing Nak, and I notice that Rory is now wearing my nure-onna shirt—which still looks better on her. My big princess dress squishes all around us, enveloping us in a cloud of sparkles.

“Look at you,” Belle says, stroking my dress admiringly. “You’re finally Team Princess.”

“I’d say Team My Own Kind of Princess,” I retort.

“We’re all our own kind of princess, Rika-chan,” she says, rolling her eyes at me. “It just took you forever to figure out yours.”

I open my mouth to argue—and then I just smile at her. Because, hey, she’s right. She clasps my hand, and then we face forward. Nak faces forward with us, determined.

My gaze lands on Auntie Suzy reaching over the gearshift to take Auntie Och’s hand. Auntie Och turns and smiles at her—and suddenly I can see them so clearly. The them of twenty years ago, when they fell in love. Soft and sweet and knowing that they can fight through anything, because they’ll fight through it together. It’s as if a glow surrounds them, creating something magical and precious.

“Hey, Suzy,” Auntie Och says very quietly—like they’re the only two people in the car. “We do all right, ne? Create successful business, raise three beautiful daughters, maybe just start a revolution in our staid old community. I know it’s been hard, but we’re living our own happily ever after.”

Auntie Suzy squeezes her hand, her smile turning brilliant. “We are,” she says fervently. “And our story isn’t over yet.”