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The Trouble With Americans...

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For Kiku's parents, a day trip to Chinatown wasn't a particularly hard sell. They'd already had a little makeshift celebration of their own - fancy tuna at his father's restaurant and a viewing of the city's annual fireworks show in the park afterward. Kiku only received a few envelopes from his family back home, and one from each of his parents, but he was more than satisfied with his luck. His father had brushed off the request with cold indifference while his mother nodded her assent.

Usually, Kiku spent the rest of winter break getting a head start on next term's readings, or in this case, SAT prep. Technically, he only had to take them once, but he was going to take them twice and go to cram school in between just in case. Alfred was blase about the whole thing, insisting Kiku worried enough for both of them.

"Tests are for suckers," Alfred explained over sushi, waving his chopsticks in the air to demonstrate his point. "I'll just become a construction worker or cop, like my Dad. You don't need good grades to beat up bad guys."

Kiku watched him duck under the table to retrieve one of his dropped chopsticks. The assessment was about as astute as the average nine year old. Alfred still seemed to function under the genuine belief that the world was made up of good guys, and bad guys. Almost immediately, he labeled Wang Yao as a bad guy.

"Honda Kiku!" Kiku whirled around at the sound of his name. "Long time no see!"

Recognition was instantaneous, even after this many years. Although his hair was longer now than he'd ever seen it, tied back in a low ponytail that hung past his shoulders. First name basis felt unfamiliar with this much time lost between them.

The pitch in his own voice startled him when he opened his mouth. "Yao?"

"Who else?" Yao squeezed himself through the throng of people and dragged an empty chair over to their table. They were seated outside, crammed along the side of a busy street. "How could you forget?"

Tension wormed it's way into Kiku's gut despite the soft, traditional music coming from the restaurant. Yao was as pushy as ever, it seemed. He glanced between Alfred licking his lips and Yao's miffed expression. He had two plush panda bears stuffed under one arm. He'd carried one when they were kids too, but it was long gone.

"This is my friend," Kiku said, gesturing weakly to the oblivious blond American. "Alfred." He took a deep breath before gesturing to the newcomer. "Alfred, this is Yao. We were friends in elementary."

Yao looked entirely unimpressed. "Before elementary," he corrected. "I knew Kiku when he was still peeing his pants."

That made Alfred smile. "Nice to meet you," he said, words muffled by the food in his mouth. Yao drew his hand back and Alfred shrugged. "I didn't know Kiku had any other friends."

Kiku watched in abject horror as Alfred pulled a handful of McDonald's ketchup packets from his jacket, tearing through two at a time before squeezing twin blobs of ketchup onto a california roll and shoving it into his mouth. Something in his stomach curdled when Yao reached for a dumpling with Kiku's chopsticks.

Yao wrinkled his nose after the first bite. "Neither did I," he said when he was finished chewing. "I was starting to think he'd be alone forever!"

Alfred laughed so hard a grain of rice narrowly missed Kiku's cheek. "More like forever alone!"

Kiku sat quietly while they shared a laugh at his expense. Shouldn't he be happy that the two of them were getting along?

"They're lighting the lanterns!" called an unfamiliar voice. Someone a little shorter than Yao reached an arm through the crowd and yanked on Yao's sleeve. "Let's go!"

Two people appeared beside Yao, friends of his, Kiku presumed, urging him to leave. They were both of asian descent, but of which, Kiku couldn't tell. Yao rolled his eyes and stood up, but didn't introduce them. Alfred didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he certainly didn't care.

"It was nice to see you again Kiku," Yao said, reaching over Alfred to grab Kiku's phone. "I'm giving you my number. Text me, okay?" He smiled at Kiku's perturbed expression, eyes skirting to the remaining gyoza on his plate. "I can come over and teach you how to make real potstickers."

"This guy," Alfred snorted after he left. "Thinks he knows everything about Asian culture just 'cause he's Korean or something."

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