Chapter 23 It’s Cute, I Guess
It’s Cute, I Guess
Aiko scratches her chin as I hold up my finished yukata for her to see. She tilts her head, peering at my completed design from one angle. “Hmm,” she says thoughtfully. Then she tilts her head to another angle before scratching her chin again. “Hmm…”
“Well?” I ask eagerly.
Aiko sighs. “I’m trying to be as critical as Auntie Hana would be. But I don’t see any flaws. This yukata looks amazing, Lilyn! You finished your second one!”
Celebrating now feels premature. I still have Amah’s uchikake to recreate before my flight back to DC.
Since this design will incorporate twice the silk as the other yukatas, and I’ve already had to take some sick days off, my time to work on this last installment is now very limited.
But knowing that Yua’s only going to be here for another week makes me want to procrastinate even more.
Tonight will be our last date. Despite all the video calls we’ve had and the sweet things she’s texted me, it doesn’t replace being with her in person.
Though I suppose I’d better get used to it since I agreed to do long distance.
Next month, I’ll be craving a video call with her as badly as I’m craving this date.
“Are you sure?” I ask, biting my lip. “You’ve got to be critical, Aiko. Hurt my feelings. Call me out on everything, down to the patterns. It has to be perfect.”
“It is,” Aiko says, holding her hands out. “Here. Give it to me. I’ll hold it up so you can see.”
I hand her the yukata and step back until my butt is against my workbench. When Aiko holds it up high, I catch the shimmer in the silk feathers.
The intricacy of this yukata is contained in the back side.
It was tedious work going from hand sewing to machine sewing and back again until I got it right.
But being able to reuse unwanted silk was worth it.
Now that I’m standing back and admiring the work, I can’t believe I pulled it off.
And the best part of it is that I can’t tell this is the one I ruined only a week ago.
I spent hours working on my second yukata, and yet it’s like I was in a haze while sewing, because all I could think about was Yua—her face on my phone screen as we talked.
Her excitement as she told me about all the clients her mentor is allowing her to take on.
Her anxiousness as she searched online for apartments in LA.
When I see this yukata, I see the story of our relationship.
It was made on the cusp of us transitioning into something risky.
But now I feel secure in taking that risk.
“Well?” Aiko asks, brown eyes poking over the top of my design. “It’s perfect, right?”
I step closer and tug at the seams, looking for signs of weakness in the stitching. But there’s nothing. No fray. No thread out of place. The patterns are lined up so perfectly that I can’t believe I did this on my first try.
Finally, I sigh. “Even if it’s not enough, Mrs. Matsumoto will point out the errors, which will be a good learning opportunity for me.”
Aiko lowers the yukata. “Okay, cool! Thank goodness we’re done with that because you have a date to get ready for.”
There’s already a smile on my face as I take the yukata back from Aiko and hang it up in my closet.
Now that my design is safe and sound, I can finally breathe.
I take a quick picture of it and send it to Whitney and Archi.
They’ll look at it when they wake up. But also, I can’t wait to show Yua.
She hasn’t seen either of these yukatas in person yet, but she should know how deeply she inspired me.
“Did she tell you what she has planned?” Aiko asks, taking a seat at my workbench. “Where will you guys be going? What will you guys be eating?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, sliding my closet door open wider to look at my outfits. “But she did give me a dress code.”
Aiko’s brows shoot to the ceiling. “Dress code? What dress code?”
I run my fingers over my outfits, skimming over the mostly black and goth designs. I might not have what Yua is requesting specifically, but I think I can pull something together. “Harajuku.”
Night has fallen over Tokyo. The streets are empty as Aiko waits with me on the patio for Yua to pick me up in a taxi. Finally, a yellow sedan pulls up. I wave goodbye to Aiko, and then I bound down to the pavement and throw open the door to the back seat.
Yua is already there. She wastes no time pulling me in. Her hands cup my cheeks as she plants a long kiss on my lips. I haven’t even shut the door behind me yet.
I lean back with a laugh. “Hello, I missed you, too.”
Yua’s beaming from ear to ear. Even as I reach behind me to close the door, she doesn’t let go of me. The moment I’m buckled up, she nestles against my cheek. “I’ve waited all week for this.”
My hand finds hers, and we cuddle together while the driver swerves us down the road. Streetlights catch on Yua’s rainbow hair. It isn’t until we reach a well-lit intersection that I finally catch a glimpse of what she’s wearing.
Giant bows and heart-shaped pins hold her hair down.
A thick lacy choker wraps around her neck, and a chunky cupcake pendant lays on her collarbone.
Buttons cling to her knitted cardigan in various shapes.
I recognize a giant strawberry, Vulpix from Pokémon, and an adorable ball of mochi with sparkling anime eyes.
The weight of the buttons pulls down on her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of her cherry blossom tattoo.
But in company with everything else, it looks like it belongs with her outfit.
“This might be the cutest thing you’ve ever worn.” I can’t help but admit it. Then I notice the beaded bracelets on her arm. She’s wearing so many of them, they look like sleeve warmers that disappear inside her cardigan. I run my hand across the bracelets. “Where did you get these?”
“I made them. Aaand I have some for you, too.” Yua reaches into the crocheted purse that crosses her body. She pulls out a handful of rubber, beaded, and ribbon bracelets. “I made a bunch of them earlier this year. Please take them. I’ve got too many to count.”
I snicker as I slide the bracelets over my lacy pink gauntlets. When Yua told me to dress Harajuku, I pulled out the most colorful things from my closet—which wasn’t a whole lot. But with Aiko’s accessories, I was able to throw something together.
A floral top with puffy sleeves sits under my purple corset.
Like Yua, I’ve pinned chunky buttons to it.
There’s even one shaped like a star that flashes when I move.
My skirt is still black, and my shoes are, too.
But with my striped stockings and the added bracelets, Yua and I look like we’re headed to a concert or something.
“Where are we going?” I ask, reaching for Yua’s hand once more and knotting our fingers together.
Even though it’s dark in the back of the car, I swear I can see glitter in Yua’s eyes. Or maybe she’s dusted sparkles on her face to complete her look. “You’ll see.”
I roll my eyes. Yua and her surprises. But still, I can’t deny the thunder between my ribs from the thrill of enjoying our last date in Tokyo.
While the taxi takes us over a bridge, Yua shows me tattoo designs she’s been working on, and I show her my yukatas.
I brace myself as she studies the images.
Aiko may not have the eyes of a seamstress, but Yua absolutely does.
And if I need to squeeze in a last-minute alteration before I show Mrs. Matsumoto, I will.
Yua hands my phone back to me. When she meets my eyes, there’s a tender smile across her lips. “I know you don’t usually play with color. But this…this is so…”
I wait for her to say it—to put the pieces together. But when she doesn’t, I finish for her. “You.”
Yua laughs and squeezes my hand. “I was going to say that, but I didn’t want to seem self-centered.”
I shrug. “It’s not self-centered if it’s true, though. You really have been my inspiration all summer long. This”—I gesture to the bracelets and buttons and hair ties on my head—“isn’t something I’d normally do. But I want to break out of my comfort zone, because I know I’m safe with you.”
Yua leans in, and for a moment, I think she’s going to kiss me again. Instead, she says softly, “Is it weird that I kind of already knew that? That’s why I wanted to go to…this place.” She stops herself before she can spoil the surprise.
I snap my fingers. “Oooh—you almost told me.”
Yua presses a hand to her chest. “That was a close call. But it won’t happen again.”
Buildings with glowing signs and bustling streets slide by.
I feel like I’ve been down these roads before, but I can’t place my finger on why.
It isn’t until we pass Harajuku Station that I realize it’s because we drove through parts of Shibuya to get here.
The taxi driver turns us down another road.
Then, before I know it, he’s pulling to the curb and we’re climbing out of the back seat.
I can’t contain my curiosity anymore. I hurry to the pavement and peer up at the location Yua’s picked. But it’s not the flashing lights or the brightly painted signs that catch my attention first. It’s the sounds coming from inside.
Machines chime and blip. There’s techno music seeping onto the congested street, but it’s somehow mixed with a rock ballad and a bright pop song blasting over the speakers.
I peer through the glass doors. Yua’s taken us to an arcade.
But not just any arcade—everyone here is dressed in Harajuku fashion.
Girls sit in racing booths with bright-colored wigs and massive bows.
Boys strum Guitar Hero while wearing matching tiger print pants with denim vests.
It’s a hodgepodge of texture and color mingling together to form self-expression.
And I never would’ve appreciated it if I’d stuck to my usual designs.
This is why I love Yua. She brings out the best in me.
Yua opens the door. “What do you think?”