Ayano was fourteen when she spent a semester in New York City.

Ayano was the president of her English club. Everyone had always told her that her accent was perfect. So she was looking forward to communicating with native English speakers. Until she reached the hotel front desk.

She couldn't understand a word the desk clerk said.

Ryoba navigated the arrangements without any problem; Ayano couldn't understand what her mom said either. In the elevator up, she asked about it.

"Oh, that's because we're in Brooklyn, honey!" Ryoba told her baffled daughter. "Every state in America has its own dialect- but New York is so crowded they have extra accents, and that hotel clerk spoke Brooklyn, just like everyone else in this area."

"Is it like Osakan accents?" Ayano asked.

"Well, kind of." The elevator door opened and the Aishi family hauled their luggage into the hallway. "But Americans are much more territorial, you know. The states didn't really want to unite but the government forced them to, so they developed their dialects intentionally to tell each other apart. I have to practice my accent carefully every time I'll be in America, because if they hear you speaking the wrong accent- well, it depends. Some people just will refuse to speak to you but you know how Americans are... with their guns..." Ryoba flashed a smile at her daughter.

Ayano didn't really know what fear was back then. But America was so strange and alien that she still felt very small and powerless.

"What accent does my English have?" Ayano asked.

Ryoba unlocked their hotel room. "Californian. Most English classes in Japan teach Californian English, because most Japanese people who visit America go to California." She gave her daughter a very serious look. "New Yorkers really hate Californians, you know."

"Really?"

"And the Japanese," her dad chimed in as soon as they were safely shut in their hotel room, the first time he'd spoken since they'd arrived in America. "You know how much they hate us, right?"

"Oh honey. Don't worry about me." Ryoba gave him a kiss on the nose.

"I know you're safe." He gave Ayano a serious look. "But please promise me you'll be careful. America is... lawless. Last time I was here, there was a gunfight outside our hotel."

The hotel room was small and smelled of smoke. The window had a view of the roof of another building and not much else. Ayano set her suitcase on the floor and unrolled her sleeping bag; the double bed was for her parents.

And so her month in America went. Every day was the same four walls. As lifeless as Ayano felt within.

She had a small desk to do her homework on, but her mom took the laptop with her whenever she left for work.

Whatever her work was.

Ryoba didn't talk about why they were in America, or what her job was, or what time she'd be back whenever she left. She promised that on a slow, quiet day she'd take them out to a nice restaurant.

Ayano wasn't quite stupid enough to think Chick-fil-A was a nice restaurant but that was the only place they ever ended up visiting, the whole two months they spent in America.

Every time Ryoba left and Ayano was awake, Ryoba would give Ayano a kiss on the head and a snuggly hug and the key to Daddy's handcuffs.

"Only in case of fire, sweetie," Ryoba would say. "Remember it only opens one end!"

Then she'd go to Ayano's father and check that his left wrist was chained properly to the bedframe. "Are you comfortable, sweetie? ...Oh don't give me that look. America is an urban jungle; I don't want you wandering out and getting in over your head. I love you so much..."

Several kisses and insincere apologies later, and Ryoba swept out the door, off on some mysterious mission.

When Ayano finished her homework, she and her dad would share the leftover food Ryoba had brought home the previous day from whatever fancy place she'd been to. Sometimes they'd talk to each other but there wasn't much to say. Sometimes they'd try to watch TV but everything was in English, most of it in an accent Ayano didn't know. Her dad read books sometimes; Ryoba had bought him a stack of 'making of' photo books about his favorite movies. Sometimes he and Ayano read them together.

"It's so dull in here. What if we went out shopping today?" Ayano asked once, fingering the key her mom had given her. "Or even if we just took a look around the neighborhood. We can be back before she ever knows we left."

Ayano didn't need to see New York City. Nothing outside would interest her any more than the inside did. But she wasn't really asking about a short shopping trip. Ryoba wasn't above planting microphones in her own hotel room to see what her family talked about.

Her dad shifted, pulling on the chain that kept him lying down. "You could only unlock the handcuffs from the bed; you don't have the key to take them off my wrist... Can you imagine me trying to explain why I just have handcuffs dangling from one wrist? In my broken English? Besides... I don't know anyone in America. Where would I even go?"

Ayano stared out the hotel window at the rooftop of the building next door. Ryoba told a lot of lies, but she was right that New York was an urban jungle. Where would either of them go?

When Ryoba finally wrapped up her mysterious business and the Aishis were finally on their way home, the first thing Ayano said when they got on the plane was that she was never going back to America ever again. Ryoba never brought her on another overseas trip.

It was Friday evening, and Ayano was sitting in the park with a sketchbook, pretending to draw a tree. Taro and the British bandana boy from the cooking club were sitting on a bench behind her, and Ayano was filling her ears with his sweet voice. British boy had asked to meet Taro there so he could explain the locker incident. Taro had forgiven him, to Ayano's dismay; her senpai was loving to a fault. British boy even lied and claimed he'd already apologized to Ayano. Now they were talking in English for practice, saying generic things. Taro's accent was adorably atrocious but his vocabulary and grammar were on point.

"You've went to America?" British boy asked.

"I've been to America," Taro answered. "One of my dad's coworkers moved to California. Our family went to Disneyland and stayed in his house."

"Disneyland! Did you meet Mickey Mouse?"

"Yes, and many other characters. Hanako met Belle, Snow White, and Elsa. She took pictures with all of them. We have them on our fridge."

"Was everyone nice?"

"Very nice! Americans are great to talk to. They were very patient with me, even though I had trouble speaking English. The children of my dad's friend asked all kinds of questions about Japan- they think you're as cool as you think they are!"

Bandana boy laughed.

"I'm happy my sister had such a great time at Disneyland," Taro said thoughtfully, "but if I went to America again, I'd go to Washington DC to see the American monuments. I think about DC every time I see Akademi's cherry trees, because DC has cherry blossoms too!"

A teardrop fell on Ayano's black sketch paper as she listened to her senpai, to the enthusiasm in his voice.

Senpai... I'd love to go to America with you!

"Ayano?"

"Yan-chaaaan!"

Ayano opened her eyes; she was still lying on the hallway floor. Her faint must have only lasted for a minute. Nana, Midori, and Kokona were hovering over her.

"Oh, good!" Kokona said as she and Ayano made eye contact. "Ayano, what-"

Nana pushed Kokona aside and scooped Ayano into her strong arms. "We're going to her room."

"N-no," Ayano muttered as the walls flew by. Her words felt strained; her head was throbbing.

Nana pushed open her bedroom door with her foot, then stopped in front of Ayano's corkboard.

All of Ayano's pictures of Taro and Osana were still pinned up, with red string hearts around Taro.

"...Ah." Nana called over her shoulder. "Girls. Give us a moment alone." She deftly pulled the door back closed with her foot and set Ayano on the bed.

"Well." Nana studied the corkboard. "This... complicates things, doesn't it?"

Ayano squeezed her eyes shut.

"Your party guests... are they...?"

"Just friends."

"Ayano." Nana made a clucking sound. "Now is not the time to hide anything."

"They really are just friends." Ayano opened her eyes again and tried to sit up, but her head hurt too much. "Ow- not rivals, just... I knew them in my old school." Well not Kokona. Details.

"Dangerous." Nana sighed deeply. "What if they found your senpai in the basement?"

"H-he's not in the basement!" Ayano shook her head.

"Oh." Nana blinked at Ayano. "...your closet?"

Then the doorbell chimed again. Repeatedly, as if the ringer was frantically mashing the button.

"Oh, dear." Nana stood up. "Your Boppa is worried. I told him I'd be back in five minutes..."

The ringing stopped; one of Ayano's friends had probably answered the door. Nana took a moment to remove the corkboard, spin it around, and place it against the wall. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

Ayano tested sitting up again, but stars swam across her vision. She must have cracked her head pretty hard.

"Ayano?" Midori appeared in the doorway. Her voice was oddly subdued. "What's going on? Are you ok? Is your grandpa ok? What-"

"I don't know." And that answered all of the questions. "Midori... my phone?"

"Oh! Right!" Midori scampered to Ayano's bedside. "I... turned your phone back on... you'd better take a look..."

She put the phone into Ayano's hand; Ayano nervously switched on the screen.

One million missed calls from her mom, her Nana, her father. As she swiped through them checking if anyone had left a voicemail, a text came in from Info-chan.

Info-chan: Headed for another island, I assume?

Ayano seethed and sent a reply text.

Ayano: What have you done!? Tell me now!

Info-chan: As much as I'd like to take credit for this, I can't.

Info-chan: Events were set in motion long before we even had any problems between us.

Info-chan: All I did was exploit the timeline while I could... that's all.

Info-chan: I couldn't save you even if I wanted to. No amount of money would empower me to reverse your fate.

Info-chan: But I'll keep an eye on Taro for you... for a fee :)

Info-chan: My rate is 5000 yen per day to report his movements. Upgrade to a livefeed of his school activities for another 5000 yen.