by Carrie Asai
“How’s it going?” she says, her eyes searching for mine in the mirror.
“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” I tell her, wanting to throw the scissors down and hug her, comfort her, press her body to mine.
“Let’s do a sort of geisha thing—some bangs, a bob. Very hip.” She grins, and my heart melts. Having her in my life makes everything lighter. And it makes me stronger. I snip away at the dark locks.
I’ve known for a while now that she and I were meant to be together, and every passing minute only solidifies that decision for me. She has a deep kindness inside her—and she is a talented warrior. Her goal right now is clear—but what is mine? To help her untangle this mystery—but then what? Will we be able to build a life for ourselves? An honest life? Will she still want me after this is over?
There is doubt, I have to admit. When she is next to me, everything is clear, but as soon as I turn away, my mind veers off on a different path and I can’t help wondering what happened between her and Teddy and how it was that she allowed him to believe that she would marry him. I know she thought that I had abandoned her, but it is this impetuousness, this rashness, that bothers me. She is so quick to despair. Does her heart truly belong to me? Or is she so desperate to avenge her family, her brother, Ohiko, that she has become somewhat mercenary? When I think of her and Teddy together in Joshua Tree, I start to think all sorts of horrible things—how close were they? Where did they sleep? Is she different with him than with me?
Perhaps that is just simple jealousy. I shouldn’t make too much of it. It is normal to have these feelings—the important part is not to let them poison all that is good between us. Teddy is gone now, and I should not rejoice at that. He was a simple fellow, really, just as much a victim as Heaven. They can’t help it that their families became involved in such things. Any more than I could help…
The past is the past. But these doubts still bother me—I haven’t thought so much about my own family since I left Japan so many years ago. I was young then and couldn’t anticipate what was to come. Now I see all too clearly what might happen.
I snip away the last of it.
Heaven stands up and runs her fingers through what’s left of her hair. She is breathtaking.
“I love it,” she says. “I know this isn’t, like, a fashion moment, but you’ve got some real talent there, mister!”
I put the scissors down and kiss her. She is so soft, so perfect.
She pulls away and shakes her finger at me.
“Let’s get that bleach out of your hair, or you’re going to look like Gwen Stefani.”
I lean my head over the sink.
I love her. I trust her. I will keep her safe. This is my only duty now.
Hiro
3
“Take a right up here,” I told Hiro. He turned off West Sunset and headed deeper into Chinatown. The warm wind blew in through the windows of the car and ruffled what was left of my hair. I checked myself out for the millionth time in the side mirror, still not quite believing how different I looked—for a haircut done by an amateur in a convenience store bathroom, it was pretty damn good. I looked like I had stepped out of my regular-girl lifestyle and into The Matrix or something. The clumsy scissors Hiro had used lent the whole ’do a kind of choppy aspect—he’d cut my bangs very short so the hair wouldn’t get in my eyes, and the rest of it fell to just below my chin. I looked more badass than I ever had—but what was more important, I felt stronger.
Part of it had to do with getting some sleep on the drive from San Diego. “Are you okay?” I asked Hiro, feeling guilty when I remembered that he hadn’t had the benefit of a nap. I couldn’t drive—had never had anywhere to drive to before coming to L.A.—so I couldn’t relieve him.
“Fine. Are we almost there, wherever ‘there’ is?”
“Yeah, just take a right up here and then your first left.” We rolled down the street and stopped in front of a faded storefront over which hung a startlingly bright wooden sign, the letters painted in amateurish strokes—the neon colors matched the lettering on the front of my new tank top.
“So this is Life Bytes,” Hiro said, and cut the engine. “Can you enlighten me now?”
“There was a guy who used to hang around here who knew about all the yakuza action in L.A.—Shigeto. I’m hoping that he’s here and that he’ll know where Yoji’s holed up. If not, I think Farnsworth can probably tell me where Shigeto lives.”
“Farnsworth?” Hiro said with a tired smile. “That seems like almost too perfect a name for the assistant manager of an Internet café.”
“Doesn’t it?” I said, pushing open my door. “But he’s a sweetheart. He had a crush on me when I was working here.”
“But you only worked here for a week!” Hiro said, shucking off some of his tiredness.
“Less than that, actually…,” I said with a sigh. Hiro grabbed my arm.
“So how well do you know this Farnsworth guy?” he asked, pulling me back toward him. He was kidding around, but there was an unexpected undercurrent of seriousness in his voice.
“You’re going to realize how silly this is when you meet him,” I said, letting him pull me closer. “Besides, you were otherwise occupied back then, lest we forget.”
Hiro put his fingers under my chin and tipped my head back.
“I’ve told you how things stand with Karen,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair off my face. “You know I think our relationship was a mistake—I told her that as soon as I realized it.” He looked away for a moment. “She wasn’t the person I thought she was,” he added thoughtfully.
“I know,” I said, melting into him a little more. “I’m just playing around.” I hadn’t realized how cold Karen was when I’d met her, either.
Hiro rumpled my hair. “Me too.”
My heart thunked with love for him as we walked into Life Bytes, which was just as empty as I remembered it. Emptier, in fact. The place looked more run-down than ever, and no one had bothered to turn on the overhead lights. Dirty coffee cups and plates were stacked on the long Formica counter, and the recycling bins under the bank of printers were overflowing. To my dismay, I saw that the six computer terminals, each one stocked with a blueberry Mac G4 and matching flat-screen monitor, were empty. No Shigeto. The place was dead except for the rippling glow of six geometric screen savers bouncing across the monitors.
“Farnsworth?” I called out tentatively.
A pale, bespectacled face poked out from behind the counter. Poor Farnsworth. His skin hadn’t improved, and he still had the same unfortunate fashion sense as ever…no one had told him that turning the collar of your knit shirt up had gone out of style before we were born. (Not that I was one to talk, wearing that stupid tank top, but still….) To make matters worse, he was wearing the hugest pair of headphones I’d ever seen, which made him look like a big, dorky insect. I stepped forward.
“Farnsworth, it’s me,” I said gently, holding out my hand.
“Huh-Huh-Heaven?” he stammered, pulling the headphones down onto his neck. “Whu-what are you doing here?”
Farnsworth’s stuttering got worse when he was nervous. I walked over to the counter and sat down on one of the ripped red pleather bar stools.
“Who’s that?” Farnsworth asked, nodding toward Hiro.
“I’m Hiro, a friend of Heaven’s.”
Hiro stood and offered Farnsworth his hand. For a moment it looked like Farnsworth would take it, but then he huddled against the back counter, ignoring Hiro’s gesture.
“Is he one of them?” he asked me, looking at Hiro with a mixture of fear and distaste.
“Yakuza?” I said. “Definitely not.”
“Whu-whu-why should I believe you?” Farnsworth asked.
“Because I’m telling you the truth,” I said, looking at him steadily. “Actually, I’m looking for Shigeto,” I added, figuring it was best just to get to the point.
Farnsworth raised a hand to his mouth and began gnawing at his f
ingernails.
“You cut your hair,” he said finally, making it sound like an accusation. Suddenly a blast of techno music roared out of the speakers. Farnsworth jumped and ran back into the storeroom, where the stereo console was. Hiro perched on a stool next to mine.
“Quite a character,” he yelled in my ear as the bass thumped around us. I nodded and tried to think about the best way to pry the information we needed out of Farnsworth.
The music cut off and Farnsworth slunk sheepishly back behind the counter. “Suh-sorry,” he said. “I wuh-wuh-was working on a program to auto-organize my MP3 library. It’s run into a few, uh, guh-glitches.”
“Sounds pretty cool,” I said, trying to feel out Farnsworth’s vibe, as I remembered I was supposed to be using my heightened perception. He looked angry and scared. I glanced around the shop and wondered if the place was doing any business at all. Could that be one of the reasons Farnsworth was so pissed?
“He told me all about you, you know,” Farnsworth said suspiciously, fiddling with a sugar packet. I remembered how awful the coffee had always been at Life Bytes—not that I’d been able to improve the quality during my brief employment.
“Shigeto?” I asked. Farnsworth nodded.
I sighed and tried to make eye contact with him, which was difficult. Whenever our eyes met, he looked away immediately. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Farnsworth. And I’m sorry I had to bail on the job the way I did—but I didn’t want to put you at risk. And I was in danger.”
Farnsworth looked skeptical. I studied his face, and suddenly I realized—Farnsworth had been really hurt by my speedy departure. And even more hurt by the fact that I hadn’t confided my situation to him. That Shigeto knew something about the world I was now involved in and Farnsworth didn’t was a blow to his pride. The pissyness was just a cover. It was all right there on his face.
“Farnsworth,” I said softly, “I really need to find Shigeto. He has information that I need. There are a lot of people after me, and I don’t know who they are or where they are. If I can’t find Shigeto, then I might not be able to get to the next piece of the puzzle.”
“Wh-whu-what kind of information do you need? Sh-Shi-Shigeto’s kind of out of it these days. He hasn’t been here in weeks.”
Patience, Heaven, I said to myself. I hadn’t expected such resistance from meek little Farnsworth—but I was learning that everyone had their limits.
“I need to know where a man named Yoji Yukemura is staying. His thugs have tried to kill me at least three times, and I want to ask him why.”
“Can’t you just Google him?” Farnsworth asked petulantly. “I mean, if he’s such a powerful guy?”
“What do you think?” I snapped. Farnsworth cringed a little and pursed his lips. “Wherever he’s hiding,” I continued solicitously, trying to repair the damage, “it’s so closely guarded, I’m not even sure Shigeto would know. But he might know someone who does.”
“Wuh-well, I’m sorry i’m so stupid, Heaven, but, like, I’m just a hu-hu-humble Internet ca-café dork, not some, some hot-hotshot Japanese mafioso. Suh-sorry I can’t help you out.” Farnsworth slipped the headphones back on his head and turned to go.
“Farnsworth, wait!” I called, and slipped behind the counter. I backed him toward the wall and whispered, “Can we talk somewhere private?” Farnsworth’s expression softened almost immediately, and his eyes darted around my face. “Like back there?” I continued, nodding toward the storeroom. Farnsworth gulped and nodded. “Lead the way,” I said, then shot a last look at Hiro, who nodded approvingly.
“Listen,” I said once we were alone, trying to make him feel like he was the only person in the whole world, “remember when I left Life Bytes? You asked me to let you know if I needed help. Well, I need it now. You’re the only one who can help me to find…um…,” I stumbled, wanting to avoid using Shigeto’s name, “…the key to what I’m looking for. Please, Farnsworth.”
Farnsworth sat down on a folding chair and looked at me with puppy eyes magnified by thick glasses. I grabbed another chair and sat down across from him.
“Jeez, Heaven, you know I want to-to-to help you. But this yakuza stuff is just crazy. I mean, ever since I found out about you, I’ve been pretty scared about locking up at night—what if they find out I gave you Shigeto’s address? They could, like, do some serious Buffy-style damage to me.”
“Look,” I said, glad that I was the pop culture addict I was, “just think of me as Buffy. I have a mission to complete, and although I have to keep it secret or it wouldn’t be a mission, I still need help. You’re like my Xander. And he was still standing after the final battle. Remember?”
“So is that guy Hiro your Angel?” Farnsworth asked sadly.
I blushed. Twenty-four hours had not been enough to acclimate me to the whole “couple” thing. “You’re missing the point,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. “I really, really need your help.”
Farnsworth toyed with the headphones hanging around his neck. I kept my hand on his arm and told myself not to push it. I could feel that he was close to giving me the address….
“It’s on Bernard Street off Pioneer. I’m not sure of the exact address, but I know it’s about halfway down the block and has a red door. I dropped him off there once. Pretty sketchy area.”
“Farnsworth—you’re the best!” I hugged him impulsively, then jumped up.
“Heaven,” Farnsworth called plaintively, “duh-duh-do you think that, like, maybe if you ever cuh-complete your, you know, mission, that we could, like, huh-huh-huh…” His face turned red. “Hang out sometime?” he finished with a gasp.
“If I ever get myself out of this mess, I’d be honored to hang out with you.” I ran for the door.
“Cool.” Farnsworth grinned. “Oh, and I really like your hair.”
“Thanks,” I said, stopping short. “I’ve got to run,” I explained apologetically.
“Go, go!” Farnsworth waved me away and turned back to his computer terminal. Out in front, Hiro stood staring out the window.
“Did you see something?” I asked, growing tense.
“I don’t think so,” Hiro said. “Did you get the address?”
I relaxed. “Yep. It’s in Little Tokyo. Not too far.”
As we pulled away from the curb, I thought about how I was pretty sure I would never see Farnsworth again and how sad that made me. Again I thought about whether I’d used him—but I’d had no choice. None of us did. Besides, even if I hadn’t been in the crazy situation I was, it wasn’t like Farnsworth and I would have been a couple.
I shook Farnsworth out of my thoughts—empathy was a luxury I couldn’t afford right now. It was time to think about Shigeto.
4
By the time we got to Shigeto’s neighborhood, it was dark. Honestly? Little Tokyo gave me the creeps. I’d had too many bad experiences there, starting with the last time I’d seen my adoptive father, Konishi—I’d agreed to meet him after hours at a restaurant, and a surprise ninja attack had put him in a coma from which, months later, he still hadn’t emerged. It was weird—when I rolled down the window, the cool night air rolled into the car, carrying the smell of the sea. But not that good, wholesome, salty smell like you remember from the beach—it was more like the scent of all the dead things that had found their home at its bottom. I shuddered and rolled up the window.
“What’s wrong?” Hiro asked, stretching a protective arm around my shoulders.
“It’s probably nothing,” I said, not wanting to sound like a baby.
“Come on, Heaven,” Hiro chided. “You know better than that. It’s time for you to start really trusting your instincts. If you sense something strange, it’s for a reason.”
I stared out the window and thought for a moment. “Something’s not right here,” I finally said. “It’s like the streets around here are dead. I can smell it.”
Hiro nodded. “I feel it, too. But I’m not sure I sense danger. Do you?”
I fr
owned. “No, it’s not that—it’s almost like whatever is lurking around here is long past being dangerous. Like, maybe it was a long time ago, but now it’s just—” I searched for the right word “—decayed.” Trying to put the feeling into words was frustrating. “I’m not sure if that’s exactly what I mean,” I added.
“I think I understand,” Hiro said, slowing down at a stoplight. “You’re feeling what anyone would in a neighborhood like this, if they took the time to process what they saw, heard, smelled—but most of us go around trying to pretend things are as normal as possible. We don’t want to feel the danger lurking—to know we might be at risk.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about this whole ‘heightened perception’ thing. It’s too much information.”
“It’s a great responsibility. The more you pay attention to what your senses tell you, the closer you’ll come to being able to use your sixth sense—which is really just the answer to what the other five are trying to tell you.”
I had to smile. “Okay, sensei,” I joked. “I think I feel a lecture coming on.”
“What, me? Lecture you?” Hiro drew down the corners of his mouth in mock seriousness. “Actually, there was a particularly apt story I was going to tell you about a warrior who failed to use his senses to gauge his surroundings….”
“Ha ha,” I said, then impulsively grabbed his hand. “Seriously, Hiro—it’s nice to feel like we’re working as a team now. Having you actually help me with my mission is a lot easier.”
“Just let me know if I’m saying too much,” Hiro said, squeezing my hand. “I don’t mean to confuse you. As with every mission, you’ll have to figure it out for yourself eventually.”
“I know,” I said, then sat up straight in my seat. “I think this is it.”
In this part of the neighborhood, most of the streetlights were broken, and the ones that were left cast ominous shadows into the gaps between the ramshackle buildings. I could smell a fire burning somewhere not far from us, and I sensed the skitter of small animals (cats? rats?) running in and out of the dark alleys that radiated off Bernard. We tried a few buildings before we finally found Shigeto’s—one of the worst on the block. The door was red, but just barely. You could hardly tell through the layer of dirt and scum.