Chapter 2 Sayonara, Tokyo #2
The first look is spring. My hanfu has a sage-green undercoat with sheer lavender lace over it.
Pink and orange flowers swirl across the skirt, resembling the hills of Dongchuan Red Land in China.
In the video, I spin around so that viewers can see the way my sleeves flow like ribbons in the air.
While I’m not the biggest fan of loud colors, I love that the silhouette makes the overall look celestial and elemental.
The beat drops, and my dress transitions mid-spin from springy hanfu to a formfitting qipao.
The silk gown stops mid-thigh with a slit down the right side.
A younger version of myself crosses my legs to show it off despite the fact that this summer design is my least favorite.
Not because of the way that I look, but because people on the internet have a lot to say about fat, confident Asian girls.
I’m used to it by now. Sure, the comments are annoying, but it always feels so rewarding to report those accounts for hate speech.
It feels even better when I see their accounts get banned.
A transition comes. I fall out of the screen and stand back up wearing an autumn-inspired qipao.
This one is my favorite of the entire collection.
Everything from my throat to my wrists and down to my toes is covered in black silk.
Under the beam of the ring light, the camera catches the shimmer of purple dragons swirling across my dress.
A corset with intricate lace crisscrosses my torso, turning the autumn look into a witchy Halloween tribute.
I step up to the camera and swipe my hand across the screen.
When I step back into focus, I’m in a wintry hanbok.
One of the few things I know about my biological dad is that he’s Korean—I mean, my last name is Jeong, after all—and he’s a December baby.
Ma doesn’t like to talk about him much. He was a one-night stand from her wild college days.
Aiko’s jaw drops. She watches the video twice more before finally speaking. “I cannot believe that’s you! I mean, I can. You’re amazing and—like—I’m kinda, sorta a little obsessed. Okay, not a little. A lot. But you made this? Like, you made this! Your transitions are seamless!”
I stifle a yawn. “Well, I am a seamstress.”
Aiko cocks her head. “What?”
I wave my hand, too tired to explain the pun I was trying to make. “Never mind.”
Aiko tucks her phone away and crosses the room.
“I’m so rude! You’ve been over there unpacking, and I’ve been over here hounding you.
Let me help you put your stuff away so you can get some sleep.
When you’re rested enough, I can introduce you to Auntie Hana and we’ll get your mentorship sorted out. ”
I nod toward my suitcase bursting with knee-high socks and thigh-high stockings. My clothes haven’t had the most enjoyable flight, judging by the way they exploded out of the bag. “Could you help me match these together?”
“Of course.” Aiko dips down to scoop up one of my black socks. Then another black sock. And another black sock. But this one has ribbons.
“I usually match them by their lengths…” I say.
“Got it!” Aiko holds up a set, ensuring that they’re the same size before folding them together. She pairs two more before the silence breaks her. “Okay, I need to know. You’re probably so internet famous that you even have fan accounts. What are they? I want to follow them. I. Need. To. Know.”
I giggle and grab another hanger. “I’m internet famous enough to have haters, but not big enough to have fan accounts, so I can’t help you there.”
“Liar!” Aiko points one of my favorite stockings at me. It’s black with white stripes and lace along the top. But I need to stitch it because there’s a run forming down the side. “I saw all the comments on your posts! Lilyn, people are obsessed with you!”
I laugh so hard I spit a little. “No. Definitely not.”
Aiko stops what she’s doing to lean in.
“What?” I ask, turning until her small nose is only inches away from mine. Freckles dot her round cheeks. When she smiles, there’s a dimple on her left side, and her canines stick out like Boba’s teeth. “Why are you staring at me?”
Aiko pulls away, leaving behind the smell of her rosy-jasmine shampoo. “You’re totally blushing!”
I’m not sure if Aiko is right, so I pat my cheek. It’s warm. Way to go, Aiko.
“I knew it!” Aiko snaps her fingers. “You totally have fans! And let me guess, you’ve left boys with broken hearts back home?”
Oh no. Not this again. I already had this conversation with Ma, and I especially don’t need boys or Aiko distracting me this summer. What I need is to get into CIF, so I squash this topic before Aiko starts foaming at the mouth.
“I don’t break boys’ hearts,” I say, draping one of my sashes onto a hanger. “Because I don’t date boys.”
“Not yet, but maybe you will after high school!”
I scoff. “No, like ever. I’m into girls.”
Aiko presses a hand to her mouth, covering a gasp.
It isn’t until she does this that I realize what I’ve said.
Japan hasn’t made as much progress around queerness as Taiwan has, and I’ve just outed myself to the girl who’s supposed to help me get my mentorship back.
Crap. As if being lesbian has anything to do with how hard I’m planning to work on my application this summer.
“Sorry,” Aiko says, and for a moment I fear what she means is You have my condolences for being diagnosed with stage four gayness. Then she adds, “I shouldn’t’ve assumed.”
I’m caught off guard. Back in DC, no one cares that I’m the L in the alphabet mafia.
I have the liberty to exist as me—granted, I’ve never held hands with a woman in public.
Generally speaking, I’m in a safe enough environment where I can tell my friends about my crushes without so much as a slow blink.
If anything, it’s harder for my Taiwanese aunties and uncles to accept I’m gay, considering same-sex marriage hasn’t been legal for very long in Taiwan.
And Taiwan was the first country in Asia to legalize it.
“My best friend is a lesbian, too,” Aiko continues.
My head jerks on its own. Well…that’s not what I was expecting.
Sure, I’ve heard about the small pockets of queer communities in Japan—especially in the younger crowd.
But I’m not exactly here looking to find people like me.
I’m here to dazzle the one and only Hana Matsumoto.
Besides, I’ve never seen the appeal of a summer fling.
“You’re very different style-wise, but opposites attract!” Aiko grins so slyly that her cheeks turn into tomatoes. “If you’re single, I can—”
I hold my hand up. “I’m not looking for a relationship.” It’s best to nip this in the bud.
Aiko’s brows wilt. “But…why?”
There’s so much heartbreak in her voice that I can’t help but find it funny.
She’s probably one of those people who thinks that love is the cure-all for the world’s problems. Which means she’ll probably try to hook me up.
Which means I’ll also have to explain that I’ve never had a girlfriend before.
Which will probably only make her want to hook me up even more.
“Thanks, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about than date nights.” I scoop up another sash. Maybe it’s my sleep deprivation, or the fact that the only person I really want to talk to right now is Ma, but I hesitantly ask, “Can I trust you with a secret?”
Aiko inches closer with an eager nod.
I take a deep breath. Ugh. I don’t want to say this, but I’m tired of carrying the weight of it on my own. “I’m worried that I’ve lost my spark.”
“Spark?”
I nod slowly. Maybe it’s good that I’m finally getting this off my chest. I didn’t say anything to Ma. I couldn’t bear seeing her disappointment. But Aiko’s different. She’s a brand-new foundation—someone I get to build a relationship with. And as of five minutes ago, she’s a stan.
“I just—it’s hard being so creative all the time.
It’s like my brain has been one big fog lately.
I think maybe that’s the real reason why I didn’t think to look harder for Mrs. Matsumoto’s emails.
I just can’t focus. I can’t find the energy to work outside of what I know.
What if I came all this way to Tokyo and I can’t make anything more noteworthy than my Four Seasons collection? What if…what if I don’t get into CIF?”
My voice cracks toward the end. Sheesh, I must be more tired than I thought I was. Or maybe I just really need a friend now that Archi and Whitney are on the other side of the hemisphere.
Aiko’s voice softens when she speaks. “I think sometimes we can be our own worst critics. Besides, you’re in Tokyo! If something’s going to reignite your imagination, you’re in the best place to do that.”
For some reason, it doesn’t click until Aiko says those words.
This whole time, I’ve been thinking of all the bad things about coming here—missing Ma, proving I’m a failure, and wasting everyone’s time.
But—I’m in Tokyo! There’s inspiration everywhere, from the street fashion of Shibuya to the vintage aesthetic of Shimokitazawa to the iconic, status-quo-shattering looks of Harajuku.
I’ve started this study abroad experience all wrong.
“You know what,” Aiko says. There’s still a playful look in her eyes, and I’m sure her thoughts are spinning. “I’m going to take you on a walking tour! We’re going to find your muse one way or another.”
My muse.
That’s exactly what’s been missing. It’s the reason why my college application isn’t falling into place.
I can list all the specific essay themes my high school counselors wanted me to use.
I even considered defaulting to plus-size clothing and East Asian beauty standards.
But I’ve already done that for a school project, and I need to prove that I’m more than a one-trick pony.
It needs to be something else that I care about because it’ll be nothing if I don’t breathe a piece of my soul into it.
“I’ll take you up on that,” I say. “But first, I have to make sure I still have a mentorship.”
Otherwise, it’s sayonara, Tokyo.
I spend the next several hours sleeping like a corpse in a coffin.
It turns out that the futon is everything my spine needs for a night of good rest. When I finally wake up, I’m not sure how much time has passed.
There’s a warm glow seeping in through the shoji screens.
I imagine it’s dawn, but when I check my phone, I realize I’ve been asleep for eight hours and it’s practically lunchtime.
My stomach grumbles. I have too many missed texts from Ma, Whitney, and Archi. But before I can reply to any of them, I need to find Aiko and figure out what my next move is. Was she able to talk to Mrs. Matsumoto about my mentorship yet?
I climb up from my futon and patter downstairs.
I’m greeted with the smell of fresh rice in the cooker and the lingering scent of eggs that were once on a skillet.
Breakfast time is over. Warm light streams in from the sliding door across the Nakamuras’ living area.
Their patio is a jungle of greenery, and I spot Aiko watering some vining plants.
Aiko notices me as I make my way over to her.
She slides the patio door open. Her hair is covered with a woven gardening hat, and she’s protected from the summer sun by a long-sleeved shirt and gloves.
“I was wondering when you’d wake up!” That familiar toothy smile is back on her face.
“If you were still asleep after I finished watering my plants, I was going to check on you just to make sure you were still alive.”
I rub crust from my eyes. I’m so groggy I might as well be sleepwalking. “Have you had a chance to, um, ask Mrs. Matsumoto if she’s willing to take me back as a mentee?” Even in my exhaustion, it’s all I can think about.
Aiko’s smile flickers. “Yes. I called her a few hours ago. She says she doesn’t have time to give you a formal lesson today.”
Okay, don’t panic. I can still find another mentor, even if it’s not Mrs. Matsumoto, right?
Except, I don’t know where to start. It’s not like I can just call the admin at Odyssey Global and have them find me someone else.
As far as I know, Mrs. Matsumoto is the only mentor in my field who’s collaborating with my school. It has to be her.
“But,” Aiko continues, cutting through my spiral of thoughts, “she says you can still swing by the boutique anytime today to introduce yourself. I’ll take you over there whenever you’re ready. I recommend wearing something that will make a great impression.”
My neck aches at the whiplash. I thought this summer was over before it started. But now, I have a second chance—or a fifth one, considering all the missed emails and text messages. Either way, I cannot, and I will not, let this moment get away from me again.