Chapter 5 The Splash Zone
The Splash Zone
Aiko and I ride the train—or I suppose it’s more of a tram—into Arakawa City.
Whatever this mode of transport is called, the steel box rolls forward on its own set of tracks.
Power cables buzz overhead, pushing it along.
Aiko and I sit side by side in the middle of a car.
There aren’t many people riding with us this Saturday morning.
Maybe we haven’t hit the weekend rush yet.
But just like yesterday, I catch people staring at me right before they look away.
The tram stops at Arakawa-nichōme Station.
Aiko and I disembark, and I find myself in the quaintness of the industrial ward once again.
The sun is already high in the sky, and the humidity is rising with it.
Aiko steers me off the platform and onto the sidewalk.
Aside from the handful of people who got off with us, there’s hardly anyone on the streets.
Leafy trees and low buildings offer me shade while Aiko and I stroll down the block.
We pass bushes of budding hibiscus flowers and buzzing bees harvesting their pollen.
“Ah!” Aiko gasps.
“What?” I whirl around. Did she get stung by a bee?
“Dad needs me to pick up his prescriptions at the pharmacy today,” Aiko says, snapping her fingers and taking a step back toward the station. “They close at noon for lunch, so I need to leave before it’s too late.”
It takes me a moment to process what she’s saying. “Oh. Did you want to get breakfast later? We could come back for lunch—”
“Cuppa Coffee is right there.” Aiko points across the street as if she can’t think about anything other than racing to the pharmacy.
I follow her finger. I don’t need to know Japanese to know what a coffee shop looks like. There’s a pink sign hanging over an open door and a cup of tea painted in the glass window. A small chalkboard sign stands in front of the door with the doodle of an orange cat eating a strawberry shortcake.
My stomach rumbles. “So did you want to—”
“I’ll be back for you before noon!” Aiko cuts me off again.
Before I can respond, Aiko sprints back to the station. She fades into a tiny figure in the distance and only looks at me over her shoulder to shout, “Have fun, Lilyn! Eat a pastry for me!”
Then Aiko vanishes around the corner.
Did…did Aiko just ditch me? Wasn’t she the one saying she couldn’t wait to have Japanese coffee? And now I’m supposed to eat a pastry for her? Before now, Aiko didn’t seem like someone who would abandon me.
Alone.
In Tokyo.
And yet…
A crow watches me from a telephone wire.
It caws as if asking what I’m going to do.
There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.
I have to go to Cuppa Coffee. After all, Yua may be the only person in this entire city who can help me break through my creative rut.
On the other hand, I could lose everything Aiko helped me get back in one conversation.
Mrs. Matsumoto could catch wind of this and tell my school just how underqualified a mentee I am.
Aiko running off isn’t what I was expecting.
But I can’t stand here on this empty street.
I’ve got to make my time here count. Besides, there’s no way I’m going after Aiko.
Not in these boots when my stockings are already sticky with sweat.
The crow flaps its wings, probably telling me to hurry up and get some answers and breakfast. So, I do.
I cross the street and step into the doorway of Cuppa Coffee.
The scent of fresh pastries wafts out the door as the roar of a coffee grinder greets me.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the café’s dim lighting.
And when they do, I’m transported to a cottage that smells like a garden glistening with morning dew.
Lilacs and wisteria fall from the ceiling as if it’s raining flowers.
The soft pink stucco walls remind me of a desert filled with red sand and cactus blossoms. Cobblestones line the floor, guiding me to a wooden counter where I can order any of the tasty foods depicted on the wall.
I rub my eyes to fade the last of the darkness, and that’s when I recognize the person behind the counter.
Yua’s hard at work frothing milk at the espresso machine.
Flecks of cream bounce out of the metal cup in her hands and splatter onto the denim apron covering her all-black uniform.
Her rainbow hair is covered by a matching bandana, but it must’ve been busy all morning long because flyaways pop out from behind her ears.
We lock gazes, and her jaw goes slack. Her shoulders tense. Is it because she’s spotted me, or is she looking at something behind me?
I glance over my shoulder only to see the empty street. What is Yua staring at?
Suddenly, Yua shrieks like she just stubbed her toe.
I spin back around to see her shaking her hand in the air.
The cup of steamed milk clatters to the floor behind the counter.
Ting! I don’t need to see through the counter to know there’s a hot puddle of frothy milk splattered across the floor, up the cupboards, and probably on Yua’s black slacks, too.
It causes such a commotion that the patrons in the coffee shop peer up from their seats.
I rush to the counter, completely forgetting that these boots were designed for strutting, not sprinting. A closer inspection shows how inflamed Yua’s palm is. The redness spreads past her thumb and down to her wrist. I wince at the sight. It’s only going to get redder from here.
“You need ice,” I gasp, scanning the shop.
“There.” Yua’s clutching her hand, so she nods to a hallway by the bathrooms. Tucked into the corner is a giant ice dispenser.
I rush over to the machine, laser-focused on helping Yua. Maybe a little too laser-focused because I don’t notice a young girl gazing up at a floral painting with a drink in her hand. She’s so small that she bounces right off me, but not before she spills the drink.
Everything happens in slow motion. The plastic lid comes off.
A wave of dark brown fluid rushes out of the cup like a geyser.
The surge of hot chocolate slams into my chest. It sinks into the fibers of my qipao and drips through my corset down to my hips.
The drink smells like sweet cream and triple chocolate—everything I want inside my stomach instead of on my stomach.
My dress is ruined. Yua’s hand is probably throbbing. And now this little girl has been bathed in her drink and—where are her parents?
This can’t be happening. I came here for advice; is this a sign from my ancestors? Do they know that asking Yua for help will only make my situation worse?
Yua yelps from behind me, reminding me that I’m in a crisis.
I whirl around to see that one of her coworkers is holding her hand under running water in a sink.
There’s also another coworker—a boy with short, wispy hair—who is rushing our way with a cloth in hand.
Okay. He can take care of this little girl.
And whether or not this is a bad omen, Yua’s hand is burned, and she needs ice.
I sprint to the machine and scoop out some cubes with the cup that’s been conveniently placed beside it. Then I’m back at the counter before my ankles can tell me to stop running.
Yua’s coworker wraps the ice in a hand towel, and Yua presses the bundle to her hand. Immediately, her shoulders slump with relief.
“Thanks, Lilyn.” Her voice is muffled by the water still running into the sink. “I should’ve been paying more atten— Wait. What happened to your dress?”
Now that she’s been taken care of, I look down.
As I suspected, one-fourth of my entire Four Seasons collection is stained.
My cheeks flush with warmth as my thoughts spiral again.
Aiko left me alone, and it’s all gone downhill.
I don’t know Yua well enough to have this discussion with her.
Maybe I needed this catastrophe to happen so that I could ask myself if being here is the best idea.
There’s no way Mrs. Matsumoto won’t find out about Yua helping me, eventually. The truth about my designs, or lack thereof, will come out. And on top of that, she’ll probably question why I went to her daughter instead of directly to her. Like I don’t trust her as my mentor.
“Here. At least dry yourself.” Yua turns off the faucet and hands me a clean rag. “I know of a great laundry place that can get that out for you. Perks of working for a tailor.”
I take the cloth from her, reminding myself that despite all this, my back is in a corner. I need to do something. Even if it’s risky. Even if it could potentially add more friction to my already tense relationship with Mrs. Matsumoto.
Yua’s coworker says something in Japanese before pulling out a mop for the milk puddle behind the counter. Yua replies, and the only thing I catch is “arigatō.” Thank you.
“Yukie says I should take a break.” Yua turns back to me.
I glance over to Yua’s coworker. Blunt bangs sit across Yukie’s brows, and her lips are painted over in glossy pink.
She’s wearing the same denim apron as Yua, but unlike Yua’s long sleeves and slacks, Yukie’s wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans underneath.
Probably because she doesn’t have any tattoos to cover up.
I give Yukie a friendly wave, and she smiles back at me.
I imagine she’d wave back if she didn’t have a mop in her hands.
“She’s going to clean this up while I have some breakfast,” Yua says. “Do you want to join me? I know a tasty café that serves Japanese coffee. The strawberry shortcakes aren’t bad, either.”
My hand is on my stomach, wiping away the foam.
Bubbles of hunger rise up inside me, rumbling against my palm.
I mean…I am hungry. And maybe I’ll think more clearly once I’ve put some food in my system.
“As long as it means we don’t have to walk too far from here.
I don’t want to go out in public looking like this. ”
“Oof. Yeah, I don’t blame you. Fortunately, I think I can accommodate your request. Is five steps that way going to be too much?” Yua nods to a booth in the corner of the shop. Velvet seats line the wooden table while a canopy of pink and purple wisteria drapes over it.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop myself. She’s good at that—saying things that make me drop my guard. Aiko says I can trust her. We’ll see if she’ll be the help that I need or if this was all one big, giant, cocoa-and-milk-spilling mistake.
I hiss through my teeth in mock fatigue, but the smile on my lips betrays me. “It’s a bit of a hike, but I think I can manage.”