Three
Miss Jemima's small apartment had always reminded Mika of a backstage dressing room. One of those old-timey ones like you'd see back in Hollywood's golden age, when stars like Greta Garbo and Grace Kelly ruled the silver screen. Or at least, that's what a backstage dressing room had always looked like in Mika's childhood imaginings.
The apartment was a colorful mishmash of threadbare furniture adorned with feather boas and lace stoles, vintage fur coats, silk stockings and enough glittering knickknacks to start up a flea market. It held the soft, ambient glow of stained-glass Tiffany lamps draped with sparkling beaded necklaces and jeweled pendants. Framed pictures covered the walls in a patchwork of old-time actors and singers, many of them autographed. A few with Jemima laughing front-and-center right along with the celebrities.
She had lived a very colorful life before she'd met Abigail and her baby daughter…
A huge, beat-up dressing table took center stage against the far wall. It had a mirror longer than Mika was tall (when she was eight) and glowing light bulbs surrounded its frame. The surface was usually covered with makeup and jewelry and bottles of perfume, mixed with a liberal collection of empty alcohol bottles.
Miss Jemima swore up and down that it had once been used by Aretha Franklin.
The apartment was Mika's most favorite place in the world. Her sanctuary during her mother's more violent mood swings. Her thinking spot when she had a lot on her mind. Like right now.
She quietly let herself in and flopped down onto the gold-velvet settee, shoved aside a stray girdle and was immediately greeted with a lap full of rust-colored, purring cat. "Hey Mungo. Finished your dinner?"
A deep mrrowr answered her … along with a suspicious crunching coming from the general vicinity of the cat's head.
"Mungo! Ew! Get off me, you gross hairball!" Mika shoved the cat to the floor as a hoot of laughter answered from the kitchenette.
"Mungo catchin' cockroaches again?" Jemima called.
"Yeah, and eating them in my lap." Mika shuddered and flicked a twitching leg from her knee.
"Aw, that's cause he loves ya!" Jemima appeared, carrying two chipped mugs brimming with whipped cream.
"Hot chocolate?" Mika accepted hers eagerly.
"Just the way Grandmama made it." Jemima took a seat in a battered armchair. "That man gone yet?"
"To his hotel. He'll be here on business until Saturday."
She grunted around her mug. "What'd he have to say? Why'd he show up?"
"Well," Mika began slowly, "probably because Abigail wrote to him and asked him to come."
Jemima nearly choked on her cocoa. "She did what now?"
Mika sighed and set her mug down on the coffee table between them, then relayed everything she'd learned … including that Rintaro had come to take her back to Japan with him. When she was finished, she sat back and waited for the inevitable explosion.
What she got was a contemplative hum as Jemima sipped her drink.
"So?" Mika finally blurted. "What do you think?"
Jemima grimaced. "I think this chocolate needs a little somethin'." She reached under the coffee table and withdrew a bottle of peppermint schnapps with a wink.
"That's seriously all you have to say?" Mika huffed.
Jemima tsked. "Honey, you are a grown-ass woman and a legal adult. Much as I wanna keep you forever and make your decisions, it ain't my place no more. Hell, it ain't never been my place to start with. You been the grownup well before you turned eighteen and you got a good head on your shoulders as a result." She paused to pour a healthy amount of schnapps into her drink. Mika held hers out hopefully and Jemima chuckled. "Just a little. Because it's a special occasion." She capped the bottle and sat back, sipping thoughtfully. "What I can do," she finally continued, "is offer a little advice."
Another long sip as Mika waited impatiently. "If that Ranti or Rinto or whatever his name is wanna take you back to Japan with him, maybe you should go."
Now it was Mika's turn to choke; that had not been the advice she was expecting.
"Think about it, honey. Livin' above a bar in a little shithole apartment, barely scrapin' by paycheck to paycheck? That ain't no life for a young lady! Your mama, bless her poor soul, she woulda wanted better for you than this. Maybe that's why she wrote your daddy. Despite her own personal feelings, in the end she realized that maybe he could give you that life."
"She hated him, though. He abandoned her," Mika pointed out.
"We all make mistakes. Lord knows Abigail made her fair share. But here's a chance to set things right. A fresh start in a brand new country! Besides…" Jemima's eyes twinkled. "Didn't you wanna move to Japan once?"
Mika snorted. "Yeah, when I was six." Her lips twitched over the brim of her cup. "I really wanted to meet Sailor Moon."
"Well, now, here's your chance!"
She huffed a short laugh. "Do you realize how much paperwork and expense is involved to move to another country?" She blew a sharp breath through her overgrown bangs. "I don't even have a passport! It takes months to get one of those! Not to mention the cost…"
Jemima grunted. "Seems like your daddy might be good for it."
Her lips curled. "Well, you're not wrong there. I don't think I mentioned it, but he paid off the medical bills, you know."
Jemima paused mid-sip, eyes widening. "How many?"
"All of them. For the medications and the hospital stays and … everything. And then he insisted on taking the overdue utility bills and paying those off, too."
Jemima frowned; she'd never been big on accepting charity. "And you let him?"
Mika frowned back. "Look, when a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity comes along like that, it's beyond stupid to pass it up. Pride doesn't keep a roof over my head or my electricity on. And maybe now I can stop leeching off the bar's wireless and get my own. I don't like using their connection, anyway. It's unsecured and the owner's bound to figure it out sooner or later."
"Been leechin' it for years and he ain't said nothin' so far."
"Yeah, well… What if he finally decides to wise up and secure the network? Are you gonna go ask him for his password? We'll both be up shit creek. If I lose internet access, how am I supposed to keep up with school? I can kiss my GED goodbye."
"Or you can go back to a real high school and get an actual diploma," Jemima pointed out drolly.
Mika shuddered at the idea. Not after what she'd been through at the old one… "There's also the matter of my job," she added.
"People quit jobs all the time. Ain't exactly a dealbreaker."
"I like my job," she grumbled. "Where else do I get to hang out with prized thoroughbreds? And get paid for it?"
"I don't like it," Jemima complained. "It's dangerous work! You know what happened to the poor kid got trampled by that Appaloosa the other month. Got his arm crushed right well. He'll be in a cast for the next year!"
"Jon was an idiot. It was his own fault," Mika grumbled. "Everyone knows Million Bucks is skittish and to be extra-careful when handling her." She sent Jemima a droll look. "Besides, why're you complaining? You're the one who got me this job!"
Jemima just grunted and sipped her cocoa. "Wasn't ever supposed to be a permanent gig. It ain't even technically legal, them payin' you under the table like they do. It was just to tide you over until somethin' better came along." She nodded wisely. "Seems like somethin' better just came along."
Mika sighed and leaned back. "I dunno. Just … this whole thing feels like it's too good to be true," she confessed. "Something's bound to go wrong…"
"Well, there's still some time. Think it over a couple more days. You'll figure somethin' out."
So, for the next two days, Mika did exactly that and thought it over. Weighed every pro and con she could come up with and was still left undecided.
She even considered calling Rintaro to ask his opinion, had the phone in her hand and her finger over the dial pad before she lost her nerve and slammed the receiver down. She did, however, call the utility companies. Just to verify that her bills had all been paid in full.
They were.
On Wednesday night she went to bed and dreamed of smoke and flame.
When she jerked awake at two forty-seven AM (according to the glowing clockface at her bedside) the smoke didn't disappear. In fact, her apartment was engulfed in it and, hacking and choking, she scrambled from the bed, managed to trip over the laundry she still hadn't put away, yanked open the front door to find a frantic Jemima on the other side just about ready to bust it down.
"Come on, honey, we gotta go!" She roughly grabbed Mika's arm and dragged her down the steps, through the alley to the main street where a large crowd of people had already gathered. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second, and Mika's heart pounded when she saw the ominous glow of flames flickering against the wall of the next building over.
The bar was on fire.
The street was already a flurry of activity as fire trucks and ambulances screeched to a stop, horns blasting to urge milling customers and staff out of the away so the rescuers could do their jobs. Somebody herded Mika and Jemima toward one of the waiting EMS workers and the next thing Mika knew, she was seated in the back of an ambulance with an oxygen mask over her face.
"It's not really necessary," she croaked through the mask. "I didn't inhale that much smoke."
"Just you hush and let the nice worker do his job," Jemima scolded through her own mask and Mika sighed and fell silent, shivering in the frigid air. Her pajamas were far too light to withstand mid-October temperatures. She hadn't even put on shoes and her socks were already damp from the filthy street. She smiled gratefully when the man attending her drew a thick silver blanket around her shoulders to give her some warmth.
"What happened?" she heard somebody ask outside; one of the customers being tended for slight burns, she assumed.
"Another damned bar fight." Mika couldn't see him but she recognized the deep voice of Ralphie, one of the bouncers. "Managed to break it up and kick 'em out but one of 'em tossed a pipe bomb through the back door. The whole damned kitchen went up. I told Carlos not to let that door hang open! I don't care how hot it gets back there. Poor jackass took the brunt of it."
"Is he okay? What about the rest of the staff?"
"He'll be in the hospital for a while but he'll live. His pretty face ain't gonna be so pretty anymore. Everyone else made it out alive. Somehow," Ralphie grunted. "Herding a bunch of drunk customers out the door is kinda like herding cats."
Mika started as realization struck. "Mungo!" she cried. "Is he—?"
"He's fine. Skedaddled out the window. He'll be back when things calm down a bit," Miss Jemima assured her.
Mika stared miserably outside, where water hoses blasted full-force against the burning building. "I left a window half-open," she lamented. "Everything's probably soaked. But your apartment's right over the kitchen! All your things…"
"They're just things, honey. They don't mean nothin'. It's the memories that're important and those are all safe in my deposit box." Jemima grinned and tapped the side of her head with a lacquered nail. Mika smiled weakly in response.
"You know, you should take this as a sign," she continued gamely.
Mika cast her a skeptical glance. "A sign."
"Sure! Don't think of it as a tragedy. Nobody died, maybe a few folks singed around the edges but—"
"I think Carlos might disagree about that…"
"Carlos is a self-centered jackass. A few months in the hospital should do that boy some good," she snorted.
"Jemima!" Mika shot her a scandalized glance, then an apologetic grimace toward the EMS worker, who just snorted a laugh and continued typing notes into the computer.
"Anyhow, look at this as the universe's way of tellin' you it's time to move on," Jemima continued firmly. "You been thinkin' over your decision whether to leave with your daddy or not, right? Seems like maybe somethin' up there's tryin' to nudge you in that direction."
"By burning down our homes?" Mika deadpanned. "You're not the one leaving but your apartment's probably in worse condition than mine."
Jemima just grunted. "Maybe it's a sign for me, too."
So that was how, on Thursday afternoon, Mika found herself inside of one of the ritziest hotels she'd ever seen, feeling like a mouse in a den of lions. One does not simply walk into the Hilton Plaza, she thought sardonically as she made a determined beeline for the nearest elevator. At least, not someone like her. She imagined dozens of eyeballs staring daggers into her back as she impatiently waited for the lift to reach the ground level. You don't belong here, they practically screamed.
She half-expected a security guard to show up and drag the bedraggled homeless girl out, but nobody approached. Probably because she still smelled strongly of smoke and who knew what else. She could still smell it in her hair despite her best efforts to clean up. Even distorted by the elevator's polished silver doors, her reflection sported a matching set of bruises under her eyes, standing in stark relief to her dead-white face. Well, it couldn't be helped, she supposed. Sleep deprivation wasn't a good look on anyone. She'd spent the rest of the night and a good chunk of the morning clearing the wet, singed, smoked-stained clutter out of the apartments once the firefighters gave the all-clear.
It didn't look good for Jemima; her entire bedroom had been scorched and part of her kitchen, but it could have been worse, she insisted. Mika got off lucky. Although her walls and furniture were soot-stained and the entire place needed airing, the fire had been put out before anything had started burning. Her pitiful wardrobe stank of smoke, though, and her floors and belongings were soaked where the water had gotten inside. Her bedroom got the worst of it and she suspected the fighters had also hosed it down, just to be on the safe side.
The elevator finally dinged, the doors slid open and Mika darted through and nearly bowled over the uniformed man who stood on the other side. Red-faced, she muttered an apology and the floor number she wanted to the glaring bellhop. She pretended not to notice how he subtly eased away, nose wrinkled, and stared at the emergency sign screwed into the wall until the elevator dinged again and the doors slid open. "Twentieth floor, penthouse suite," the scrawny man announced as Mika hastily stepped off the lift.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she took in her surroundings and realized that, rather than the long hallway with rows of doors on each side that she'd been expecting, she stood inside a smaller version of the marble-tiled foyer she'd just left. Expensive art decorated the walls with potted plants tucked into the corners, and a shallow flight of steps led up to a set of doors that must have led into the suite itself.
Her nerves came flooding back and she stood for several long moments, debating the wisdom of her decision. She should've left earlier. She should've stopped at a thrift store and bought a new outfit or even taken all her clothes to the laundromat and washed them beforehand. At least then she wouldn't smell like wet ashes.
Still, she'd already come this far. It'd be a waste of bus fare to go back now. Besides, Rintaro had told her two o'clock and it was already seven minutes past. So she took a few calming breaths, straightened her hair and clothes as best she could and marched up the steps to knock sharply on the door.
Three seconds ticked by. Four … five… She raised her fist to knock again and yipped in surprise when it abruptly swung open to reveal a tall, blonde-haired man dressed in a sharp business suit, blinking down at her through fashionable glasses. "Can I help you?" he asked in softly-accented English.
"I-I'm sorry," she blurted. "I … I must have gotten the room number wrong!" She turned on her heel to scurry away, face burning.
"Mika-chan?"
She froze at the sound of her father's voice, looked over her shoulder to find Rintaro at the door, standing just behind the blonde man, who towered over him by several inches. He smiled widely and beckoned her into the room. "I'm so glad you came," he continued as she hesitantly followed. "Please have a seat. Would you like something to eat? I can order some room service."
"I—No, I ate before coming," she stammered, aware of the stranger's gaze fixed on her. She sat gingerly on the end of a stuffed sofa and glanced around nervously. The room looked more like a luxury apartment than a hotel suite. It was larger than her and Miss Jemima's apartments combined. She could see a short hallway with at least two doors, which meant separate bedrooms. It even had a modernized kitchenette, complete with a stove and a full-sized refrigerator. Everything was top-of-the-line brands and gleamed with accents of polished wood and brass. The plush carpeting was immaculate.
She couldn't even remember the last time she'd picked up so much as a dust rag, much less bothered to vacuum her floors; her carpet was so threadbare it hardly felt worth the effort anymore. She felt more out of place than ever.
"Can I get you something to drink, perhaps?" The blonde man offered in his quiet voice. "Some hot tea? Or I believe there is soda in the fridge…"
Mika hesitated. "If there's coffee, I wouldn't mind a cup," she replied slowly. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I'm a bit tired." Not that a caffeine jolt would do her nerves a lot of good right now…
"That's right." Rintaro was instantly all concern. "You'd mentioned something about an incident…?"
"There was a fire early this morning," she explained. "We got out safely but there was a lot of damage to the bar and the apartments. So I spent most of the morning trying to clean up."
"I'm so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"No. It's under control. Just … it felt like it might be a good time to contact you about … maybe … taking you up on your offer…?" Mika trailed off with an awkward shrug, wondered yet again if she was making a mistake. What if he'd changed his mind in the past few days about inviting her to move into his home? After all, he didn't know her any more than she knew him.
But if the growing delight in his expression was anything to go by, Rintaro had definitely not changed his mind. His smile was brilliant as he seated himself in the chair across from her, a gleaming coffee table between them. "I'm so relieved to hear that," he replied. "Honestly, I was worried you might not accept."
"Excuse me, please." The soft voice startled her as much as the blond man's sudden presence at her side as he leaned down to set a delicate teacup and saucer on the table in front of her, along with a thin folder of paperwork. The rich aroma of expensive coffee drifted from the small cup. He offered a kind smile as he straightened and stepped back again, taking his place beside Rintaro in the second chair stationed across from her.
"Thank you, Mr. … um…" She glanced at her father, uncertain.
"Oh! Forgive my poor manners in not introducing you earlier. This is Asahina Ukyou. He's our family lawyer." Rintaro glanced over at the younger man, a teasing sparkle in his eye.
"Asahina…?" Mika's eyes slowly widened as she made the connection.
Ukyou nodded with a smile. "I am the second-eldest son of the Asahina family. Your new brother."
"Oh!" She jumped to her feet,; her knee banged into the coffee table and nearly upset the teacup on its saucer. She grit her teeth against the pain in her leg and stuttered, "I-it's nice to meet you." Awkwardly leaned over and stuck out her hand, which he accepted graciously.
"Likewise." A gentle squeeze to her hand before he released her and they sat back, Mika fidgeting nervously. Her eyes darted to the folder of papers before her.
"I must confess," Rintaro began, "that although I was unsure you would accept my offer, I had hoped for the best and started making arrangements. I've taken the liberty of gathering the needed documentation awhile." He opened the folder. "These are mostly filled out, just some information is missing, and we'll need your signature on several of them. Then Ukyou-san can have them filed and processed and you'll be free to make the move to Japan."
"H-how long will that take?"
"Normally, you'd have several months of waiting for the filing to be completed, but it does help to have friends in high places." He smiled at his stepson. "I should think … two or three weeks, tops?"
Ukyou nodded his agreement. "I'll do everything in my power to push it forward and get the arrangements completed quickly."
Mika released a shaky breath and sat back in her seat. "Wow. That's—It's all moving way faster than I expected," she said. "I mean, I've got stuff to sort here. I'll need to turn in a notice for my job… I just hope they can find a replacement for me before I leave. I hate to just leave them short-staffed."
"What is it you do?" Ukyou asked, curious.
"I work at the tracks."
The men exchanged glances. "The tracks," Rintaro repeated, uncertain. "As in…?"
Mika cocked an eyebrow. "As in the racetracks. Racing horses."
"You're a jockey?" Ukyou looked so shocked that Mika had to laugh.
"No, no. Nothing like that. And I'm not a bookie, either." That was actually Miss Jemima's job, but she didn't feel it necessary to fill them in on that detail. Still, since they clearly wanted to know more, she elaborated, "I'm a handler in the stables. Four days a week. Four AM to eight AM. My job is to feed, groom and exercise the horses to prep them for racing later in the day."
"That sounds … physically challenging," Rintaro said slowly. "Isn't it exhausting? How do you balance a job with your education?"
Mika bristled. "It's a good job. I enjoy the work. It might not pay the best but it sure beats slinging french fries or stocking shelves in a grocery store."
"I meant no offense," her father soothed.
"Aren't you tired? Working so early and then attending classes afterwards…?" Ukyou looked concerned. "It must be difficult to find time to study."
Mika bit her lip. "I … I don't attend highschool," she admitted, embarrassed. She had a feeling that education was very important to these people. "I dropped out in tenth grade to work and take care of my mother when she started getting worse. I take classes online to earn my GED. But it-it's been slow going. Especially this past year."
"Are you behind?" Rintaro pressed gently.
"I should be graduating this year, but I'm still technically only in eleventh grade. My grades are decent but I haven't earned enough credits yet to advance. The online school has been pretty understanding of my circumstances and allows me to work at my own pace, so that's a blessing, at least. Now that Abigail is … gone … I should be able to focus more on finishing my education."
The men nodded and Ukyou jotted something down in a small notebook.
"Well, all of that will be sorted in due time," Rintaro said. "For now, let's just get these papers finished up."
Mika nodded, relieved to change the subject. Her education—or lack of it—was not something she preferred to discuss, especially with strangers. Ukyou handed her a pen and quietly directed her to fill in areas on each page, sign or initial one line or another. When they reached a certain paper, she hesitated, frowning. "Why do you need my banking information?" she asked, suspicious.
"This is so we can transfer your remaining funds into an account I'll be setting up for you in Japan," Ukyou explained. "This way, you won't have to worry about the currency conversion and you'll have money ready should you need it."
"And, as with my other younger children, you'll receive a monthly allowance deposited into that account," Rintaro added.
Mika startled; she had never received an allowance in her life, except for the random ten-dollar bill Miss Jemima would sometimes press into her hand to "treat herself" after a particularly difficult day with her mother… "I'm eighteen, though," she mumbled. "I assumed once I got over there I'd get another job to earn my own money. You already paid off all of my bills and that was more than enough. You're kind enough to invite a complete stranger into your home, but I-I'd be happy to work and pay rent, as well. I'm not a freeloader."
Rintaro's face softened and even Ukyou's expression melted a little. "I know you haven't had an easy life growing up," he replied sincerely, "but things will be different now. I haven't been there for you when I should have been, but family takes care of each other. Parents take care of their children even into their adult years and, someday, the children will take care of the parents in return. It seems, though, that in your case the roles were reversed. You've spent all this time being the parent. Please allow yourself to be the child from now on. Allow your family to take care of you."
Mika looked down, touched by his words and embarrassed by the sudden sting of tears behind her eyes. She wasn't sure she knew how to step back and let other people take care of her, but it made her feel … distressingly relieved to think that someone was finally willing to step up and take over the responsibilities of adulting for awhile.
She managed a shaky nod in response, picked up the pen to continue filling out paperwork, unable to look at them until she could bring her ping-ponging emotions safely back under control. She refused to break down over a few kind words from a stranger, even if he was her dad. She wasn't that weak.
She signed the last document with a flourish and set the pen down beside it with a deliberate motion, sat back as a long, shaky breath slipped past her lips. There. It was done. She was officially moving halfway across the world. Leaving behind everything and everyone she had ever known and loved…
What the hell had she just done?
A brief moment of terror struck her, made her heart beat hard in her chest. Was she crazy? Had she lost her mind? She was no adventurer! She'd spent her entire life living above that bar, making due with what she had, and now here she was, skipping blindly into a whole other world that she had only ever seen in movies and books… She wasn't ready for this, damn it!
Her head snapped up and she opened her mouth to blurt it out. To say she'd changed her mind, she was sorry, but there was no way she could move to another country—Especially not to one where she could barely speak the language!—but the look on her father's face stilled her words. He looked so … happy. So relieved and so grateful as he flipped through the documents she'd just signed to make sure it was all in order. He really did want her to move in with him, she realized. It wasn't a passing fancy or a whim.
She felt Ukyou's gaze on her and glanced at him, wondering what he thought of the situation. Wasn't it weird for him to suddenly gain a little sister so late in life? But he was smiling, too, his eyes gentle as he studied her. "You're doing the right thing," he assured her, as if he could read every thought in her mind. "You don't need to worry. You're a part of this family. We're all willing to help you acclimate in any way you need."
Mika nodded slowly, lips pressed together. His demeanor felt so calm that she felt herself calming, as well. Miss Jemima was right. As terrifying as the idea was, it was also the chance she needed to make her life better and she'd be an idiot not to take it.
Rintaro gave a satisfied nod and handed the folder to Ukyou, who slipped it into a leather briefcase. "It's all in order," he said cheerfully. "We'll get these filed and things moving along and I'll send you everything you need as soon as it's ready." He rose to his feet and Mika followed him up.
"So, uh, I guess that's all you need then?" she asked, uncertain.
"Yes. I was planning for us to return to Japan on Saturday, but I believe we'll move our flight departure to this evening, instead." Rintaro glanced at his stepson, who gave a nod of confirmation, then turned his smile back to her. "I want to get back and tell everyone the good news and to start the process of bringing you home as soon as possible."
"So you've finished your business then?"
His smile widened further. "Yes. Our business is most satisfactorily concluded." To her surprise, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms in a strong hug. "Welcome to the family, Daughter. I'm certain I speak for us all when I say we're delighted to have you join us."