author's note: Originally this was going to be a oneshot, but then as I was drafting I thought the scenes would split more smoothly into three separate chapters. So, yeah. Expect three chapters. I wasn't really planning on dropping anything like this so soon, but then grabdog showed me the light with how cute Henry and Rika could be together. And thus, here we are. Although really, I'm just taking the opportunity to indulge in my love of high fashion and turn Henry into my personal dress up doll. This isn't meant to be historically accurate (I have been to New York, but it was a long time ago) so I changed around quite a few names; just think of it as an alternate reality version of 2007/2008 New York, lol.
New York City was not all that different from Tokyo, in Rika's opinion. It had a lot more guns and it was a lot dirtier (and most Americans were annoyingly tall). But the crush of people creeping from place to place on narrow streets under neon lights and flashing billboards remained the same. Everyone was always in a hurry to be somewhere else.
When Rika turned fourteen, her mother had given her the option of tagging along to fashion shows. At first, Rika resisted out of sheer stubbornness; she did not want to give Rumiko the wrong impression. But while fashion might not interest Rika, she was intrigued by the thought of visiting glamorous, far off cities like Milan, London, Paris, and, yes, New York City.
After the Digital World, Shinjuku felt small and mundane. There were no clockwork towers among the clouds there, no toon towns warped in black-and-white, no libraries hidden beneath breathable water. That wasn't Shinjuku's fault, but Rika's quiet dissatisfaction remained unchanged.
While foreign cities were not fantastical either, they were at least different. Except New York City, which felt the same. But maybe Rika liked that too—two cities separated by thousands of miles and vastly different cultures but united by an indefinable sense of soul—because she kept coming back, even long after she begged off Milan and London and Paris.
And the dirtiness appealed to Rika's punk sensibilities, anyway.
Renamon touched her mind, checking in, before flitting off again. There was a flash of the city skyline stretching out beyond the darkening horizon, a light breeze ruffling yellow fur, carrying with it the mixed scent of human odor and industrial waste. Far below, the garish colors of Starfall Diner glittering vibrantly on Times Square. It reminded her of the campier restaurants in Akihabara.
Not for the first time, Rika was grateful Renamon's presence afforded opportunities to wander around essentially unchaperoned. She leaned against the diner wall, glancing periodically at her phone and then the line of teenagers waiting outside the famous restaurant. Rika had gleaned from fragments of conversation drifting her way that they were out-of-towners, visiting the city while prepping for some sort of marching band event.
That was the issue with places like Starfall: they were blatant tourist's attraction. Still, Rika was far too fond of the singing waiters and waitresses—many of whom worked there while hunting for jobs on Broadway—to not visit at least once. They had such clear, beautiful voices, throbbing with unfulfilled wishes, potential dreams waiting to spring into kinetic motion, rising above the din to dance amongst the stars. Plus, the cuisine was decent; Rika particularly enjoyed their root beer floats. A quintessential American experience.
Her phone pinged with a message from Henry:
Almost there. Waylaid by relatives.
Rika replied:
k
She felt oddly nervous. Henry had always been more Takato's friend than her own. What would they even talk about alone together? Just imagining the awkward silence extending between them made Rika squirm. Still, she was glad he was here even if it was by happenstance. Rika could lord her knowledge of the city over the group know-it-all, satisfying her competitive need to one-up others.
Rika passed the time waiting by playing Rock Crusher. The horizontals and verticals slotted seamlessly into place on her phone's screen. The rhythm was mindless and entertaining, prompted by lights and jingles. Her score rose quickly, before a cleared throat shattered her concentration. She glanced away from the screen, frowning.
The boy was from the band group still waiting in line. He appeared a bit scruffy, and she had to look up to meet his gaze.
"Hello," he said in English. "Have you been waiting long too?"
Rika contemplated ignoring him. Or lying. In the end, she said, "Yes. They told me about an hour."
"Popular place."
Henry appeared then, saving her from a response. He was carrying Terriermon, which annoyed Rika for a reason she couldn't quite articulate (an irrational one at that, since Henry brought Terriermon with him everywhere whenever he could), dressed in that hideous orange vest he still insisted on wearing. He smiled at Rika, calm and relaxed as ever, not noticing the other boy yet.
"Hey, Rika. Sorry I'm late."
"It's fine," she replied back in Japanese, curt. Henry blinked.
"Oh, are you not from around here?" asked the other boy, side-eyeing Terriermon.
"No, I'm not."
"Hello." Henry offered a polite smile. His own English was heavily accented and clumsy. Although still quite impressive when his ability to speak both Cantonese and Mandarin Chinese fluently was considered. "We're from Japan."
"Wow, that's far." The boy looked impressed. "I'm not from around here either. We're from Minnesota, although we're close enough to Canada that we have these itty-bitty Canadian flags in town."
Minnesota could have been another country as far as Rika knew or cared. She just shrugged. Henry seemed to be parsing through the English, frowning in concentration.
"Fascinating," he said. "Why are you visiting?"
"We qualified for a big battle of the bands competition." The boy swelled with pride. "We'll be performing in Madison Garden!"
"Ah. Good luck," Henry said. Rika nodded her agreement, grudgingly impressed. She would always pay due respect to accomplishing difficult feats of skill.
"Thanks. What about you guys?"
"My brother's getting married," Henry said.
Rika grunted ambiguously.
"Nice." The boy grinned. He opened his mouth to say something more when one of his classmates called for him. It seemed they were being seated. "Aw, damn. Guess that's my cue. Oh, but, before I go, can you teach me something in Japanese?"
"Sure," Henry said. Rika shot him an even stare.
"Okay, um, how about…" The boy smiled at Rika, complexion turning pink. "You are very beautiful."
Rika was flattered despite herself. She smirked. "That's easy. Try I have a massive erection right now."
Henry bit his lower lip.
The boy stumbled over the phrase before looking at her expectantly. Rika gave him a thumbs up. His blush deepened. Now his teacher, a frazzled older man who looked like the Caucasian version of Rika's own music teacher—as if they both came off some factory line for that specific vocation—called out for him. He waved goodbye before darting off.
"You're terrible." Henry shook his head, still trying to contain his laughter.
"Some might even qualify that as rude," Terriermon piped up. As if he had not been thinking along similar lines. That he stayed quiet for so long showcased a remarkable restraint Rika only rarely saw out of the rabbit.
"Please. He'll never know the difference anyway." Rika scoffed.
"True. That guy couldn't take a hint if it hit him over the head." Terriermon snickered. Both Rika and Henry snorted.
Rika focused, asking, "How's the trip been?"
"Not what I expected." Henry became thoughtful. "Then again, I wasn't sure what to expect."
"I know what I expected! Lots and lots of hobos!" Terriermon cackled, stopping when Henry knuckled his forehead.
"Don't make me regret bringing you along."
Terriermon deflated in Henry's grip.
"Do you still want to come here for college?" Rika asked.
She had a hard time wrapping her head around Henry not being nearby one day. Even when it was difficult to spend time with him, busy as he was with his academics, his proximity was reassuring in its solid dependability. They could always find ways to meet, which would no longer be true if he studied abroad. Just like many others in her life, Henry would leave. The realization soured Rika's good mood.
"I don't know about here here. Columbia University is nice, but Stanford is still my number one," Henry said. "It's an interesting city, though."
Renamon brushed her mind again, sensing a downturn in emotion. The reassurance that if everyone else left, Renamon would remain stalwart, helped Rika feel better. Not even a digital eldritch abomination had succeeded in separating them. She smiled.
"Yeah. And you're in luck, since I've seen a thing or two around here."
"I bet." Henry smiled back. Her stomach lurched oddly.
They chatted about miscellaneous topics while waiting. She had never realized how good a conversationalist Henry was before now. Then again, the only person Rika ever talked to one-on-one was Jeri and occasionally Takato. (And Renamon, obviously.) When it came to spending time with Henry, much like most of the others, it was time spent in a group setting. And in a group setting, Rika tended to stay quiet and keep to herself.
Here, Henry mostly discussed the wedding preparations. Apparently, that had occupied the vast majority of his stay, limiting opportunities to explore. The rest had been filled visiting college campuses. He explained all this with a wry, beleaguered expression. Having been subjected to many a dull wedding rehearsal herself, Rika could sympathize.
They were at last seated. The diner was drenched in vibrant blue light, casting an almost purple pallor over the bright red booths and sparkling silver tables. The entire top floor was occupied by that group of band students. Rika absently scanned it for the friendly boy, but he was lost amid the crush of people. A woman was standing on the strip in the center of the restaurant, belting out lyrics to a Crickets song.
"This place is amazing," Henry said, eyes wide as they pulled up a seat. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the din.
"It's all right." Rika tried not to look too pleased with herself.
Terriermon slipped under the table. A light tickle ran up her leg, and Rika stifled the urge to kick him.
"Terriermon." Henry sighed.
A giggle. But he stopped. Rika rolled her eyes, the roll segueing into a polite smile as a waitress came by and took their drink orders.
"Do you think you'll be able to hang out at all again?" Rika glanced through the menu, already having a fairly good idea as to what she wanted.
Henry was slower to respond, brow drawn as he perused his choices with typical methodical intensity. "Maybe. I'm not interested in attending the bachelor party, so I might beg that off if my parents let me."
"What?!" Terriermon hissed, still putzing about under the table. "But Henry! Think of the booze!"
"I wasn't planning on drinking regardless. And neither are you," Henry said. Terriermon gasped, scandalized.
"You could always let him go without you," Rika suggested.
"Yeah! I'm not your pet!" Terriermon snapped. "I want to get hammered! I deserve it after listening to your mom and your sisters talk about dresses for hours."
"Now you're just being melodramatic, it wasn't that bad." But Henry looked like he was considering it. He folded his hands, resting his chin atop his knuckles. "Do you have any plans two days from now?"
Their drinks were delivered. Rika and Henry ordered meals: a burger with mac and cheese toppings (they even called the ridiculous thing a yank's burger, which Rika found hilarious) and Starfall's signature salad.
"Someone better share fries with me," Terriermon said, interrupting Rika's response.
"Don't be rude, Terriermon."
Rika snorted. "Count on it. I always have leftovers anyway; the servings are huge. But yeah, two days from now? Mom has her big show, but that's about it."
She always tried to attend at least one runway. It made Rumiko happy and besides—though Rika would never admit it to anyone other than Renamon—she never minded them provided she was not participating. Fashion shows were artistic events akin to art gallery showcases, a far cry from the generic commercialism plaguing fast fashion. Better for the environment, too.
"Really? Could I come?" Henry asked. Surprised, Rika blinked.
"Yeah. I mean, if you want. As long as you don't mind boring stuff."
"Okay, you can definitely count me out in that case," Terriermon whined. Both Rika and Henry rolled their eyes.
"I'm an expert on boring matters, just ask Terriermon."
"He's not wrong!"
"Hey."
"Don't hey me, you said ask."
Rika slurped her float to hide her amusement. After a moment, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Well, in that case. I'll get you a ticket. You better not cop out on me, Henry Wong."
"On my honor." Henry raised a hand, splaying it across his breast.
They discussed where they could go out to eat after the show. It would take place at a hotel near a hole-in-the-wall restaurant Rika had visited last year. The food was excellent, and it was not all that well known, meaning less of a crowd.
"We should go to Central Park too, if we can. I haven't been there yet," Henry said. Rika nodded her agreement.
A new waiter started singing in a deep, lovely baritone. Rika did not recognize the song. When their meals were delivered, she asked for the title. It was from Nightgirls, an old Broadway musical. She filed the knowledge away to search on her phone later.
"I never realized a salad could be greasy," Henry said, laughing, staring in minor amazement at his plate, piled high with bacon and corn and dressing. There were greens there somewhere, he would just need to dig a little.
"That's the American way."
Rika fed Terriermon waffle fries under the table. He nibbled on her fingers, a bit cheekily, and she flicked his nose in response. Terriermon giggled; Rika scratched him behind the ears, the giggle transforming into a hum. His fur was much softer than it looked. Rika wondered if she would ever be able to touch Renamon this casually. Touching Renamon felt like coming in contact with something sacred, something divine.
She told Henry about how she had seen the musical New Orleans with her mother this year. It had been all right; personally, Rika would have much rather watched The Wolf King again. She also got the distinct impression that New Orleans resonated more with westerners. Rumiko enjoyed it, though, at least. She had found the leads charming and romantic, and had been sad they did not end up together.
When they lapsed into silence Rika was surprised to find it was not awkward at all. Henry simply chewed his food while listening to the music. He even closed his eyes and bobbed his head along when the singers really got into their performance. Rika ate too and was content.
The lights spiraled and spun overhead. Pictures of Broadway cast members and records labels and signed posters gleamed from the walls, reflecting and amplifying the lights. They heightened the shadows underlining Henry's cheekbones as he listened intently. It occurred to Rika that he was actually rather handsome. Strange how a new setting, exciting and foreign, could cast someone always seen one way in an entirely different light. Different but also the same. Heat worked its way up her cheeks, and she thought Henry looked a little flushed too, although that was probably because the diner was crammed full of people and therefore swelteringly hot.
They were wrapping up dinner when a new song came on. A rumble and shouts of laughter sounded off, a cacophony of swiftly increasing noise. Rika, Henry, and everyone else looked up to the second floor. The band students were all on their feet dancing along to the beat, clearly rehearsed given the uniform choreography. The waiter stuttered a moment, obviously startled, before continuing on.
The diner, already quite loud, rose to a fever pitch. Terriermon even popped his head above the table, complaining about the racket. Henry laughed when Rika turned on her phone, recording the scene. She could not hear Terriermon complain nor Henry laugh, but she saw their mouths move. The stomping of feet and the mic'd waiter overwhelmed everything else. Terriermon could Digivolve and no one would notice.
Then the song finished. The band students clapped thunderous applause to showcase their appreciation. She finally caught sight of the boy from earlier, jumping up and down with an immense grin on his face.
"Is that normal?" Henry asked.
They both watched the band teacher, grinning and laughing, come down and shake hands with the bemused waiter.
"Not at all," Rika said.
"So, I guess you got to see something new too, then."
She wondered how Henry managed to make it feel like she had lost, but also not necessarily mind losing.
"I guess so, yeah."
author's note: Fun fact, when I visited New York, some band kids actually did start dancing on the second floor of the (Ellen's Stardust Diner for those of you unaware) restaurant. It was hilarious.
I'm curious how other people approach writing different languages? I had a couple different versions of Rika speaking in Japanese vs English, but they all felt awkward written out. If you have any thoughts let me know.