Dinner with Akiko

The walk you had with Scarlet sticks with your mind through the rest of the day. You appreciated her honesty and found yourself curious about her more than you’d like to admit. Was she entirely trustworthy? All signs pointed to the positive, even your instincts. When you broke away from each other, she reminded you to keep your head straight before disappearing like she was just a passing stranger.

Dinner time approaches, and you go to the hotel's lobby, where the dancers, guards, and even some of the locals converge to eat. Akiko’s entire troupe comes in at once, buzzing with their circle’s gossip and shared memories. Sachio is with a small cluster, while Akiko has kept to herself.

The Japanese have their own food, one of which looks to be of higher quality and made for a different breed of people. Meanwhile, you are served with mashed potatoes and fried chicken, not a terrible entree, but a little basic when compared to what your clients are being served. However, when you take into account that they have their own chiefs, you aren’t surprised.

You grab your tray and a fork before finding a corner table to eat from. Kenji and Scarlet are nowhere to be seen. In the back of your mind, you recall Scarlet’s remark about being “friends,” and wonder if she’s somewhere in the room doing her part of the job from an unseen perch.

Akiko slides in front of you suddenly and smiles, but it's nowhere near subtle that she likes you. She smiles widely and offers a piece of… something. You lift an eyebrow and look at her as you gently stab it and bring it to your tray. “What's this?”

“Nikuman,” she says slowly. “Street food. Very Japanese,” she squints at you as she eats something else from her plate that isn’t the Nikuman.

You glance around the room and make sure no one is watching, which everyone is, and try to keep yourself level with what’s happening. Wasn’t this taboo for her, too? Your mind disregards the concerns and decides just to enjoy the moment.

You eat Akiko’s offering as gently as you can. It’s hot, tasty, and different. You nod and chew, showing genuine pleasure. “It’s good.”

“It’s better back home, and I guess your stretch of California,” she smirks, watching you chew and swallow. She offers more from her plate, giving you a variety of foods while occasionally picking at your fried chicken. She’s kind and doesn’t show any disgust with what you’re eating as you banter like a certified couple. You can’t help but be a little nervous as this goes on, especially when you realize Mikka and whoever else he has on his payroll could be watching, even if you’re smothering out your suspicion.

“Americans like food, don’t they?” Akiko inquires suddenly, bringing you back to the table.

“I think most cultures have…food. What do you mean?” You wipe your mouth with a napkin.

“You have a large fusion of foods. I was in Southern California a few months ago, and you had Mexican fusion. And in parts of Sunbrushed LA and New Sands, there’s a fusion of Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese. Not to mention the mess of Filipino and Thai.”

You hadn’t been to the Japanese-controlled pieces of America. Business wasn’t exactly welcome, and their standards were much stricter. You shrug and nod. “I suppose we do. I actually don’t have a lot of experience with the Californian side of Pre-War America.”

Akiko looks surprised. “You serious?”

“I am,” a brief flash of your childhood warps to your mind. “I… Well, my family were foodies, though.” You lower your voice, sharing an intimate part of your life that Delilah had once pried into.

“My mom cooked, and my dad did too. So, for some holidays, they’d get together and make something really special for the family and some friends. My folks celebrated Thanksgiving like crazy. For generations, probably still do, if they’re still around,” you murmur the last part.

Akiko nods. “Thanksgiving,” she muses. “Yes. I am familiar.”

“You are?”

“Old American bases litter Okinawa, the naval bases and airstrips. When the war happened, a lot of them went back, I guess, but a garrison of soldiers stayed put. Many American and other NATO ships arrived at Pacific bases when it happened, I guess, but that was a little before my time,” she laughed, carefully, like she wasn’t sure if the war was personal to you or not. You weren’t even sure what an American totally was, or if you still counted as one after the war.

Texas was for Texans. New Yorkers had New York and so on. The United States of America wasn’t exactly united under one banner. Akiko continued. “It’s a part of that difference I was talking about. It took a while for the Americans to integrate with our community, I guess you could say, and now, hundreds of years later, there’s still a mix of American-Japanese. You’d never guess it now, though.”

A little laugh bubbles out when her eyes meet yours. “I’ve always been curious about what you were all about,” she rubs your leg under the table with her foot. “I feel like there’s still so much to learn. Tell me more about your celebrations and food.”

“We had a pretty small family, so I think my family made it a point to bring people over and serve, you know?” You rubbed her foot back, catching her gaze. “I liked it. I made a few friends.”

Names came back to you, making you feel melancholy. Delilah wasn’t the only one. There were so many faces you left behind. So many faces, you weren’t sure which were still alive or remembered you. Without meaning to, you told Akiko everything about your Thanksgiving festivities, listened to every word, and asked every question that came to mind.

You didn’t want this to be a temporary thing.

The hall emptied to just a figure lingering—a family with a handful of children. Kenji’s meeting should happen any second now, and you needed to meet him when he came. “Let’s go back to my room,” Akiko whispers. “I miss you.”

Your arms will get goosebumps when she whispers to you, tracing her fingers on your forearm. “I feel like there’s so much more you could show me.”

“I shouldn’t,” you chuckle, looking away. No regulars from RTE or her troupe were here. “I really need to be elsewhere, actually.”

“Again?” Akiko frowned. “You’re cruel for showing me the world of sex and then not taking me deeper.”

Her bluntness was arousing, to say the least. But you *had* other places to be. Kenji, of all people, shouldn’t be kept waiting, especially if it’s because you’re engaging in intimacy. Under the table, she tangles around your leg with her. “Please? I’m…”

She trails off, pink-faced. “I’m horny.”