by Carrie Asai
“Something about it made me think he’d harm you if I came looking for you. I was terrified. So I didn’t call the police. Then I had another idea. I could get someone to smuggle you out of Japan. I had got wind of what Konishi’s ‘plan’ was going to be—a stewardess had spied for me while he spoke to one of his henchmen on a business flight back to Tokyo. Basically, to make it look like he’d ‘rescued’ you, they were going to plant you in an adoption agency at first, and Konishi, out of kindness, would take pity on you and take you home. His wife would ask later, ‘Why so spur of the moment?’ And he’d say, ‘I just took one look at her and I couldn’t resist.’ ”
“As if Mieko would accept that,” I said. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, he needed some way to get you into the house without admitting to Mieko that he’d had an affair,” Sara said, downtrodden.
“Even though she probably knew anyway,” I said, petting the cat’s back. “I wonder if that’s why she hates him so much.”
“He never spoke of her,” Sara said, her eyes looking off into the distance.
“But anyway,” she continued. “I found out which orphanage they were holding you in for a day and paid off a couple of people to steal you from there and fly you back to San Diego. Then we were going to go off somewhere where Konishi could never find us. It was very perilous, but I had to get you out of there. I felt that you were in danger.”
“God,” I said. “I had a nanny, actually. I never even knew my father was involved in any of this until a couple of months ago.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Sara said. “Because I was seriously freaking out. Later I wondered if it had something to do with postpartum depression. I assumed the worst was happening to you. But I also missed you. I wanted you back so badly. You were mine. Anyway, these people I knew actually managed to steal you from the orphanage. My friends drove you to the airport, where it was arranged through some of my contacts at JAL that you would sit in a spare first-class seat of a plane leaving for L.A. that night. The stewardesses would take good care of you; one volunteered to sit with you the whole plane ride and carry you on and off the plane.”
She cleared her throat. “But then…the plane crashed.” I saw her face grow red and sorrowful. “When I found out, I broke down. My baby is dead, I thought. She was better off staying with Konishi. I didn’t think I could ever possibly feel worse than on the day you were taken from me.
“And I didn’t even know you were alive for a while. I thought you’d died. The news about the crash and who’d survived and all of that wasn’t really disclosed here in the States.”
She took a sip of water and looked at me, her eyes wide. “But then I found out you hadn’t even boarded the plane.”
“What?”
“My friends who snuck you on the plane had reported back to me that you’d gotten on okay. But then I didn’t hear from any of those friends again. And then it got back to me through some other people I know in Japan that my friends were killed immediately after calling me and telling me that you were safe.”
“By Konishi,” I said.
“Yes. He found out what was going on and made them call me and say everything was fine. Then he killed them, took you back, and…well…I think this is what happened…did something to the aircraft to crash the plane and make it seem like, at least to me, you were dead. So I’d never come looking for you.”
“You’re kidding,” I said.
“I might be wrong,” she said. “I don’t want you to have this terrible opinion of your father now, but…”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I need to know all of this. And believe me, the things I’ve found out about everyone in my life…” I shook my head. “But the news reports said there was one survivor.”
“Yes, the news reports in Japan said that. I think they were manipulated. Which is how Konishi could adopt you, you see? But if you look at the American news reports on the same thing, they say no survivors. The news about little Heaven Kogo didn’t hit the American papers.” She shifted her weight and gestured upstairs. “I have a copy of the New York Times, the edition that was published the day after the crash. I’ll show it to you. You’ll see.”
“Wow,” I said. “He manipulated the press?”
“I think,” Sara said. “I mean, I’m into conspiracies. Maybe I’m biased.” She smiled sadly. “But…how else could that have happened?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Wow. So I’ve never been in a plane crash.”
“Nope,” Sara said.
“And then he adopted me,” I said.
“It was a perfect plan. It was an even easier way to explain it to his wife, I’m sure. I mean, no doubt there were questions. Why would a man bring a baby girl to a perfectly healthy childbearing woman? Why bring a baby who was in a plane crash? Isn’t that bad luck? But I don’t know. Maybe Mieko didn’t ask questions. But there he was, all over the news, before I could even make a move. I got a lot of threatening calls after that. ‘If you try anything like that again, your daughter will be the one who suffers.’ I had my hands tied behind my back.”
She blew her nose. “And when I found this all out—you were probably about four or so—I wanted contact with you. But Konishi was the one with the money and the power and all of Japan’s muscle behind him. I was terrified for years that he would blow up my house or just rub me out somehow. I wonder, in some ways, why he’s kept me alive all this time. The only thing I can come up with is that he loved me. And he loves you. And he doesn’t want to kill the person who gave birth to you.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“He did care about you,” Sara said. “Right?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking of my father and what they were doing to him. “He did. He cared very much.”
“He cared about me, too. Once.” She looked at me. “God, I’m so sorry. I hate to have told you this. I wish it were a simple story—that I gave you up for adoption and Konishi adopted you and that was it. But there’s so much more to it.”
“There’s always more to it when it comes to my life.” I groaned, sinking back into the chair, wringing my hands.
“For years I’d wondered about you. God, where is she? I’d think. What is she doing? How is Konishi treating her? But then…all this stuff came out about you. Just a few months ago. You were missing, for one. Your wedding was here. There was an attack. I actually even went to L.A. a couple of times to look for you.” She sighed. “But, well, I failed. And then I hoped you’d come looking for me. But then…how would you know?”
“I didn’t find out from my father,” I said. “I found out from…from my ex-boyfriend.”
“And then there was that song,” Sara said.
“ ‘Heaven’s Gone’?” I said. “You know that?”
She nodded. “They play it at the place I work sometimes. We’re really into Japanese stuff there. And I have a working knowledge of the language. So when I heard the song—mumbly as it is—I freaked out. Oh my God, they’re talking about my daughter? Is any of this stuff true?”
“Most of it wasn’t,” I said. “I was never locked in a box or a cage or any of that other stuff the song says.”
“Oh, I know,” Sara said. “It was amazing to hear a song about you. Amazing and scary.” She looked at me again. “You know, when I gave birth to you, I didn’t have a name picked out. But I really like Heaven.”
I smiled. She smiled back.
“So you say you found all this out from your ex-boyfriend?” Sara asked. “Tell me about that. Why is he your ex? Is he still around?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “And I don’t know if I should call him my ex-boyfriend. He was a friend of my brother’s, and I went to him when I fled my wedding in L.A. But…he turned out not to be who he seemed. He turned out to be in on a sting to lead me back to Masato and Mieko.”
“Who?” she asked.
I thought about this. “God, I have a lot of explaining to do,” I said. So
I started at the beginning. I told her about my arranged marriage. Teddy. The attack. The ninjas. Ohiko dying. Hiro’s house. Karen. The samurai training. Cheryl, the club, the fire. Vegas. Katie. Mexico. Detective Wachter. Japan. My father’s danger. The sub. My changed feelings toward Hiro. His death. The search for Sara. It must have taken hours.
Sara was a wonderful listener. She asked questions, she made us tea, and she turned on a few lights as dusk fell. I glanced at my watch and realized we’d been talking for over five hours. And I could have gone on talking for so much longer.
“So Hiro turned against you,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m sorry. But it seems like he agreed to it and then decided not to.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, there was a moment there when I thought he was trying to pass some code in Kabukicho and stall us there, and maybe that was when it was all going to happen…. I don’t know. But then he changed his mind.”
“So he really didn’t turn against you,” Sara said.
“Yes, but he did,” I said. “He agreed to do it in the first place.”
“But,” Sara said, “what if he told his father he’d do it and all the while knew that he wouldn’t? At least by agreeing to do it, he could get out of his house and get on Masato’s property, steal you away without Masato waking up, basically capture you for himself.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “I never thought of that. It was almost as if…” I paused to think. “It was almost as if that attack was staged basically to punish Kaori and let me go. I beat her to a pulp.”
Sara smiled. “And you said that she set you up in…Roppongi, was it? Of course it was a punishment, then. Masato didn’t wake up because he knew that Hiro was stealing you away in order to kill you. If his assistant, who messed up, got hurt in the process, then all the better. He wouldn’t have had to lift a finger.”
“God, it’s so weird,” I said. “I wonder if that was Hiro’s intent.”
“It’s hard to say,” Sara said. “But if he really loved you, it’s a possibility, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know about anything anymore. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. I wouldn’t have been happy with Hiro for the rest of my life. I’m stronger than him. I’m my own person. I make mistakes, but at least I’m honest with myself. Hiro…Hiro was messed up.”
Sara paused, poured some tea, and didn’t say anything. Sam was now lying on a small carpet between the kitchen and the living room. I could still hear the sound of water falling. I wondered if she had an installation outside. I wanted to see the rest of the house.
“You’ve been doing some martial arts, you said?” Sara asked.
“I know,” I said. “It’s kinda silly.”
“Goodness, no,” Sara said. “I run a dojo.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, dead serious. It’s in the Gaslight district. In my paranoia about Konishi’s thugs coming and knocking down my door, I decided, Girl, you have to get strong. So I started taking judo classes. Then I moved on to aikido and karate. Now I just do everything. I love it. The studio’s been open for about eight years, and things are going great. We even have yoga classes in there now. Yoga’s all the rage, you know.”
I nodded dumbly. “You said the studio is in the Gaslight district?” She nodded. “I’ve seen it!” I said. “Does it have tigers and stuff painted in the lobby?”
“That’s the one,” she said.
“God, I could’ve just walked in and said, ‘Hi, I’m Heaven Kogo,’ and maybe I would’ve met you?”
“Maybe,” Sara said. “Although I’m usually teaching.”
“Still,” I said. “Wow. I really wanted to go in there when I saw it.” I sat back and looked carefully at her. I hadn’t noticed, but she was in great shape. Her arms looked way better than mine.
“This is so cool,” I said. “My mother runs a ryu.”
“If you want to continue to train, I can help you,” she said. “That is, if you think you’re going to stay around….”
“Are you kidding?” I said, laughing. “Where would I go?”
“You could stay here of course. Anything for you.”
“I would love to,” I said. All my dreams were coming true.
“This is home,” she said.
It was nearly 1 A.M. I followed Sara into her kitchen, which had a red, antique-looking fridge and pots and pans hanging from every available spot on the wall. It still felt very Zen somehow. She made us hummus and pita and brought out some cold pasta salad and iced tea. I ate ravenously, trying to remember the last time I’d eaten something. I probably looked like skin and bones; since Hiro died, I hadn’t eaten anything at all. Which made me remember: I still had to pay my hotel bill. I had to pawn the necklace so I’d have some money. All in good time, I thought.
Sara excused herself to go to the bathroom and to give Sam some medicine. I sank back into the couch and tried to assess what we’d talked about. I thought about Hiro. It was true what Sara had said. Even though he had agreed to the task from his father, he hadn’t followed through with it. And that should count for something. I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that Hiro truly had loved me, right to his death. I sighed. I hoped that he saw me, wherever he was. And I hoped that he was proud.
We went upstairs. “Let me show you the rest of the house,” Sara said. There was a spare bedroom that was airy and clean, with pale blue walls and a low, modern-looking wood bed. There were big French movie posters plastered everywhere. A blue iMac sat in the corner. “I can move the computer out of here if you want,” she said. “Is this room okay?”
“It’s great,” I said. “So’s the computer.”
“Wow,” Sara said, stepping back. “It’s amazing how things can change in a day. I have a daughter again. After twenty years I have a daughter.”
“You’ve always had a daughter,” I said, sitting on the bed.
“That’s true,” she answered.
There were so many things I still wanted to ask her about. What was her life like? Did she have a boyfriend now? Did she have any other children? What did she do for fun? She didn’t look forty. She looked more like twenty-five. We stared at each other, smiling brightly, neither of us really wanting to go to bed.
“Well, I have a toothbrush and stuff you can borrow since all of your things are back at that hotel,” she said.
“Okay.”
“And tomorrow I have to be at the dojo early, but you can come along if you want.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, lying back on the bed. It was heavenly. There were about five million pillows. The sheets smelled like lavender.
“I’ll go get you some towels,” Sara said, and turned to leave the room. But then she froze.
Outside, I heard a dog bark crazily. Something about it sounded ominous, intrusive. Sara glanced at me.
Then there was a crack. The sound of splintering wood. Sara whipped around and ran into the hall.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
I jumped out of bed and ran to the window to see what was happening. Thundering feet. Black masks. Swords. Windows breaking. I blinked a couple of times and then my adrenaline started to pump.
Four guys were casing the house. I saw a few skulking behind trees, hiding behind Sara’s car.
Ninjas.
Then one of them spotted us upstairs and pointed.
Everyone stood still for a moment.
The ninjas glared up at us, out for blood. One of them, I recognized, had been there for the attack on Hiro.
This clan had to be there on orders from Masato.
“It’s happening,” Sara whispered.
One of the ninjas charged up the stairs.
“How good a fighter are you?” Sara asked, turning to me.
“I can hold my own,” I said.
“All right, then,” she said. “It’s time to show off your stuff.”
And we rushed down to meet them.
&n
bsp; 13
I grabbed a broom as a makeshift bo.
There were four attackers, all dressed in the same weird purple-and-black getup. One of them came toward me quickly, throwing a kick inches from my face.
I retaliated with the bo, striking back. But the attacker wheeled around and kicked me low. I stumbled, falling up the stairs. Something crashed on the other side of the room. Sara was taking on two attackers at once.
I glanced quickly at her. She was good. She was much better than Hiro. She was fast, efficient. She knew how to use the shadows, she knew how to use her body, and it seemed like she sized up her opponent’s weaknesses instantly.
I pressed myself up and started engaging in hand-to-hand combat with this one attacker who wouldn’t leave me alone. He was aggressive, throwing blows to my shoulders and chest. I managed to land one on his nose and felt the bone structure of his face. Even though a mask covered it up, I could feel the face’s delicateness. Weird, I thought. Usually these attackers had bone structure like the front grille of a Mack truck.
This attacker is smaller than the others, too, I thought amidst quick, choppy blows to the shoulder.
Sara was fiercely pummeling her opponents. Already she’d thrown one into a wall, and he lay crumpled up against it, clearly knocked out. She was working on the other two, whirling and kicking, her limbs swift and fluid.
I seized the bo, feeling like a sluggish elephant. This attacker wouldn’t give me any breathing room. Without a minute’s pause he’d been kicking or punching some part of me. Already I felt my eye swell up in pain. I tried to block with my body, but I was growing slow. Suddenly I had an idea.
I’d flip him.
He was shorter than the others were; I’d have no trouble with this. I’d flipped men twice his size. Quickly I rammed into his lower legs, planted my feet, and threw him over my shoulder. I heard the wood floor shudder and creak under his weight.
“Whoa,” Sara said. She’d dispensed with three of the fighters already.