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I straighten and clasp his leg. “So, there’s something I forgot to tell you.” I relay my confrontation with his mother. When Shinji stares at me in silence, I try to shrug away my unease. “What? I didn’t injure her. Not physically. And she deserved the read of her life for hurting you the way she’s done all these years.”
“You went behind my back?”
I raise my chin defiantly. “Yes, and I’m not sorry.”
“You threatened my mother to protect me?” Shinji’s disbelief begins to rub me the wrong way.
Like I would sit and allow the disrespect to go unaddressed? Not when it comes to my men. Not while I have breath in me and a biblical thirst for vengeance. No, sir.
“Of course, you’re my husband.AndI’d do it again if I think anyone from your family has ill intentions toward you. You know what? I’ll handle your cousin, too.” I push away from my husbands and exit the car to charge the other pregnant lady.
Her condition doesn’t faze me, because my family’s peace is more important than her condition. Before I get close enough, Takeshi’s arms pull me back, allowing Shinji to advance. I swing around on him, but he shakes his head.
“Shinji needs to do this himself.” He grins. “But he appreciates your willingness to fight his battles. For now, let’s observe.”
“Fine,” I huff and turn around, walking more sedately, my curiosity growing the closer I get to the younger woman.
“I’m not here to cause any trouble, I promise.” Hikaru’s wary stare appeases a petty part of me and convinces me my message to Aya found at least one receptive person. “After your wife spoke to Auntie Aya, I had time to think and remember the years we grew up together. No one told me why you disappeared after Fumio died. Auntie Aya just told the family we’d never see you again.” She reaches her hand out to Shinji but he doesn’t accept it. She allows it to hang for a few seconds before letting it fall to her side. “That first summer before my freshman year, I’d hoped you would defy my aunt and show up.” She sniffs and wipes her nose. “But you never did. And each summer that passed, I lost hope of ever seeing you again, but that’s not the case any longer.”
Shinji looks off to the side. “What do you want?” His jaw flexes as he bites out the words.
Hikaru holds her stomach. “Most of the family still lives in Minnesota. And this may be asking a lot, but even if you don’t see a reason to rekindle your relationship with anyone else, I’d like you to think about getting to know me again. More importantly, I’d like our kids to grow up knowing each other.”
Shinji swallows, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking. No one in our family or your husband’s family would approve of what I do for a living.”
Hikaru turns in a circle, taking in the large, ornate gate and driveway beyond. From this distance, none of the Kimura homes are visible.
“Yeah, I’m guessing you have a level of wealth that doesn’t come with clean hands.”
Shinji shrugs. “What I do brought my husband and wife into my life. I’ll never regret that.”
Hiraku glances behind him to meet my and Takeshi’s gazes. She doesn’t mention our special relationship, but her curiosity is evident in her arched brows. Her reaction ends there. No judgment, no disgust; just curiosity, then acceptance.
Although Takeshi and I stand to the side, we’re close enough to step in if necessary.
“I’m glad you have people who fight for you since your family failed you.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve said what I came to say, and I hope one day you’ll accept my invitation. I’ll wait however long it takes.”
Hiraku turns to her car. Instead of entering the driver’s side, she opens the back passenger door. “I almost forgot. This is for you.” She takes out a shoebox and hands it to Shinji. “Auntie admitted when she kicked you out, she made you leave empty-handed. I figured you could add one of these to Fumio’s altar. If you have one set up.”
Shinji shakily takes the box and opens it. The tears barely holding on, slide silently down his face.
Takeshi and I share a glance before we close the distance to look over Shinji’s shoulder. Takeshi’s nostrils flare and his mustache bristles while he tries to contain his emotions, while I choke up at the sight and join Shinji’s tear fest.
The box contains photographs of Fumio. Solo pictures, pictures with Shinji where it’s difficult, albeit not impossible under intense scrutiny, to distinguish which brother is which, and pictures with the extended Nakashima family.
All the images depict happier innocent times. Years of love and delight I envy, but I don’t begrudge Shinji for that joy. Having those happy moments is a part of him and why even without the mementos of his brother, he lived a life honoring him.
Hikaru gets in her car and we watch her make a U-turn and drive down the road until she disappears. Takeshi and I remain silent while he grapples with his emotions.
“Shit, I don’t have her number,” Shinji says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Then let’s go get it.” I sprint to the car.
“What?” Shinji says.
“You want her number. What Shinji wants, Shinji gets. Remember?” I yell as I dive into the back of the car.
Takeshi chuckles. “She isn’t wrong. What are you waiting for?”
