And if I can do the community proud, maybe the gossip, the whispers, the lingering stares will . . . stop. Maybe I’ll finally feel like I belong here, to this place that flows through my blood as naturally as the sizzle of my temper.
“So, who do you think the grand marshal will be at the parade?” Rory says, snapping me back to the present. “And why is it always such a big secret?”
“It’s for the drama, Rory, they do a big reveal every year,” Belle says, rolling her eyes. “But honestly it’s probably some boring old person we’ve never heard of—as usual.”
“I have to go,” I say, suddenly realizing my door is now unblocked and I can continue on my quest to the dojo.
“Wait!” Belle protests as I dart toward my exit.
“I’ll wear it like this!” I shout over my shoulder, hastily using Belle’s scarf to tie up my unruly hair.
“Rika-chan!”
I let out a yelp and jump back as my bedroom doorway is blocked yet again, this time by Auntie Suzy. She’s swaddled in an old yukata with a fading sakura print and Adidas slides with socks, and she looks like this day has already exhausted her, even though it’s barely nine a.m. Nak scampers around her feet, tail wagging.
“Rika-chan,” Auntie Suzy repeats in a way that’s probably meant to be admonishing but is, as usual, too absentminded. She reminds me of a kindly witch who can’t remember what spell she’s supposed to cast. “Are you girls fighting already?” Her gaze lands on me, and her nose crinkles. “And what is that . . . shirt?”
Nak gives me a scolding look, as if to agree with her, and trots over to Belle.
Okay, so everyone in this family disapproves of my amazing T-shirt. Even the dog.
“It’s a nure-onna,” I say. “A Japanese fairy creature who morphs into a half snake and seeks revenge on those who have done her wrong—”
“Mmm, why can’t you like the nice fairy tales?” Auntie Suzy shakes her head.
“Fairy tales aren’t nice,” I mutter, twisting the hem of my shirt. Stubbornly, all of them being so against it makes me want to wear the shirt even more. “Anyway,” I say, edging my way toward the bedroom doorway again, “I really need to get down to the dojo and warm up because—”
“No.” Auntie Suzy’s voice is sudden and firm—a marked contrast to her usual dreamy cadence.
“What?” I stop cold in my tracks, unsure that I’ve heard right.
Auntie Suzy deflates a little. “I’m sorry, Rika-chan, but you can’t participate in the demonstration today. I need you to work at the restaurant—we’re having a much bigger crowd than usual.”
“But . . .” I shake my head, confused. My Aunties’ restaurant, Katsu That, is located right below our apartment, and their claim to fame is they will katsu literally any foodstuff. The whole family works regular shifts there, but I’d specifically asked for today off. “I’ve been training for this all year. I mean, really for most of my life, considering how long I’ve been in judo.”
My voice is already rising, my face flushing, my temper bubbling to the surface.
“I’m sorry, Rika-chan,” Auntie Suzy says again, but now my kaiju is roaring, threatening to consume my entire body, and I have to make her understand.
“I finally made the number one spot this year—do you know how hard that was?” I say, struggling—and mostly failing—to keep my tone even. “Natalie Ito and I have gone back and forth since we were nine, and she is a legit beast at sparring—she beat me out three times in a row for the regional championship, remember? But I finally did it, I beat her enough times in class, and now I get to lead warm-ups and be in the centerpiece match, and I can finally—” My voice catches, hot tears filling my eyes.
I can finally show everyone I belong here.
Auntie Suzy cocks her head at me, something I can’t recognize passing over her face.
“Rika,” she says slowly, “why must you make everything so difficult?”
Really, her weary tone is one of the most infuriating things. How can she be so unbothered, so dismissive of something so important to me?
“You wouldn’t be doing this if I were a princess like Belle and Rory!” I blurt out.
“Technically I’m the queen,” Belle murmurs.
“Because that’s important, right?” I bulldoze on, ignor-ing her. “You get why that’s important, them wearing fancy dresses and waving to the crowd, but when it’s something that’s important to me—”
“Your sisters are performing a service to the community,” Auntie Suzy interrupts, her tone still flat. “You had your chance to do that, too, and you chose not to—so now you can be of service to your family—”
“I’m barely part of this family!” I spit out, my temper exploding. My face feels like it’s on fire, and the tears are starting to run down my cheeks, and I’m just . . . so . . . frustrated. “None of you will even try to understand why I like my monster-woman shirt and why I don’t want to be a princess, and by the way, part of this isn’t just about my resistance to all things princess—I also don’t want to deal with Uncle Taki death-glaring at me from the sidelines because he thinks only ‘pure Japanese’ girls should be Nikkei Week Princesses, and—”
“Ma Suzy.” Belle’s voice is soft and placating. I can feel her sidling up to me, gently adjusting the scarf in my hair. I also feel Rory’s hand take mine. “Rika is the best at the dojo. She’s earned the chance to show everyone how good she is, right?”
I swallow hard and look at the floor, trying to shove the temper back down. But it doesn’t want to go. When it’s like this, it feels like it has nowhere to go. It’s a blaze consuming my body, obliterating everything else.
“I’m sorry,” Auntie Suzy says again—and now she really does look sorry, that sadness she
