Little Tokyo is the considered name for the Japanese-styles Chinatown. It's not officially mentioned in the story, but is very dedicated to the setting.
We exit out of the coffee shop, with the drinks tucked between our fingers. Julian managed to go into detail about our relationship—having barely know anything about the other, other than the fact that we've been in a couple of classes together for the past four years and assigned as seating partners in that one year during middle school—and decided that we should use this wasted time to get to know one another.
I didn't want to go in the suburbs, as there was barely any activities going on within our town; and we found ourselves deciding on the city.
We stopped in front of a sleek black Mustang. The sculpture was beautiful, with the entire vehicle being ebony colour; however with sprouts of bright red within the interior of the headlights, the rim of the tires and the logo of the Mustang branded on the side of the passenger door. Little to no other colours flaunt the sport car, and with the tinted windows near to dark, it fixed on the features in almost onyx glory.
"Nice ride," I complimented, running my fingers against the hood. The metal was smooth and clean, not a scratch in sight. Actually, not a scratch anywhere on the magnificent beauty. "You must love this car."
He chuckles, nodding as he eyes his own masterpiece, "that I do," he replies with a click of a button; the locks pulled and allowed access in. Julian walks over and opens up the passenger door in the two-door car.
"Such a gentleman," I teased, getting into the automobile with a thanks that exits my lips. Julian shuts the door behind me, heading over to his side as I begin to admire the interior architect of the car.
The leather seats confined with dark linen; the radio was styled in an old development with no technological screen as the radio station. I concluded the car was an old model, somewhere during the times where technology hasn't advanced to the conclusion that it is today. Not a spec of dirt in sight within his car.
"When did you bought it?" I ask, looking away from admiring his car to his face. His eyes were pulled towards the road as he lights the engine to life, pulling out of the parking lot.
"Around sophomore year," Julian begins to explain as the car turns into the road, going down to the highway. "My parents helped me with a quarter of the price, but I had to pay for the rest."
I nod, "you definitely picked a beauty."
He laughs, as he takes a right to make the stop into the intersection. "You into cars?"
"Nope," I shook my head, remembering to strap myself into the seatbelt as I pulled on the material. "I just know when to admire certain beauties."
He chuckles, but doesn't reply. His concentration on the road and I admired that from his ability to remain focus. I would've probably fixed to turn on the radio by this point, but still trying to tame the same level of road safety within my own car.
The atmosphere runs cold, and I emerge myself within the landscapes outside of the window. Quick pass of forest trees, slight colours formulated from green into different shades of red and orange. The primary I've noticed. The road begins to thicken, and the fill of concrete walls shaped the highway and blocked from the path of nature.
"So," Julian draws, "you like the city?"
I nod, turning away from the window and back to Julian, "I do. I was born in the city and found myself fitting in better in the city rather than the suburbs. I don't know, I guess I'm just a city girl."
"I didn't know you were born in the city," he said with slight embarrassment; I wouldn't have expected him to—I barely mentioned it within the first introduction week of high school nor middle school. Plus, I've always been attacked with questions of me being in born in somewhere cliché like China or Asia. Even though Asia isn't a country. "Where?"
"LA," I replied, my eyes roaming over his features. "My dad moved here when I was two due to a job offer. My brother was born here, however."
"Oh," he said, seemingly a reflexive reaction to not knowing what to reply to, "do you want to move back?"
"Yeah," I turn away and stare at the road ahead, spotting cars in front of us in different streams of colours. A car decides to switch lane right before my eyes, "my plan is to move to the city for college. Back to Cali, to be exact. But, my dad wants me to stay in-state for my little brother, so I don't know."
I look down to my fingers, finding the drink still laid in the mist of my palm; I take a sip. My mouth suddenly dry, and the wonderment of why I'm telling this to Julian given that we're almost to basic strangers. "You know you don't have to, right?" Julian says, his voice thick, "it's your life, you do what you want."
"I know," I reply, dropping the drink within the cup holder next to Julian's drink of strawberry smoothie. "No parent has that power over me; but I just love my brother, y'know? We're a four year difference, but we're really close. He's going to experience high school without me if I leave. I can't let him handle that alone. I hated that experience but I had great friends I could be with to support me. He... not so much."
"What's wrong with his friends?"
"They're..." I'm trying to find nice words that wouldn't make me sound like a judgmental little prick, "they're white, first of all. They judge him on his culture, a lot, and sometimes it causes Kenji to randomly tell me things about how he doesn't want this or that from our culture. I can see how his friends are taking an effect on him; he's at a young age right now, and at this age, it could influence him worst than ever. It could lead to problems in the future if he continues down this road with his friends."
God, why are you telling him all of this?
"Then why don't you tell him to stop hanging out with them?"
"Because nothing will get to him more than experience," I explained, now coming to the conclusion of using hand gestures, "if I were to tell Kenji to stop hanging out with his friends, he'll resent me. He'll tell me to stop telling him what to do. He'll tell me that I'm into his business too much. What it would cause is for him to do the complete opposite; so I want him to know, I want him to see how his friends. I'm trying to be subtle—tell him—but he's lowkey clueless and barely picks it up. I just hope he finds better friends in high school."
He doesn't reply, and I felt myself feeling stupid for telling him all of this information. He asked for a simple question, and I gave him a whole essay. God, Francena, what the hell? "Umm, sorry for telling you all of this. I know it was weird—"
"No, it's okay," Julian replies, with a hand waving dismissively in my direction. My lips shut, "I was just in thought. You know, processing the information."
"... umm, for what?"
"I don't know. You just reminded me of someone," he replied, "you know my ex-girlfriend, Tasha?"
Tasha Larson. The girl that got you, not me. How could I forget?
I scratch the back of my neck, "I think I heard of her."
"Well, from what you're telling me, I just kinda think it's different. If she didn't like my friends, she'll tell me. She would've told me what a bad influence they were on me, and how I should find better friends." He explains, "she's very honest, but she overall cares."
"Oh," I said, not knowing how to reply to that. "Did you ummm... love her?"
Julian took a second to reply, in that second, I turn to him and admire his features to see the expression before the answer; his eyes slightly pained and a small smile stained his lips. "I did," he replied, nodding to himself as he stares straight ahead, "I really do."
Oh.
The conversation goes silent after that as I begin to wonder what would happened had Tasha never came to Julian's life. I knew I shouldn't—there was no point—however, it was the curiosity that blew me to this direction. Had she never came here, had she never arrived at Alleghany, would I had a chance?
Oh fuck it, don't lure yourself back in. It took you two years, Francena, two years where his name isn't the first thing that popped up in your head at the beginning of the morning; two years it took that seeing him in the hallway wasn't something heartbreaking to something that was never there.
The ride to the city becomes apparent soon enough, with the upscale in towering buildings. The small availability in parking space, the large advertising billboards and long roads ahead. Little to no grass setting nor trees. Not to mention, large scales of lights that would illuminate beautifully through the night sky.
Julian spoke once more and declare that we should walk for the rest of the trip; it allows us to explore the area more on foot and I agree as Julian went downtown to find a parking space.
Parking in the city, in words, is a nightmare. The streets are thin as sheet material, with the road stocked with cars and parking metres that would call you out once the timer goes off. Cars that managed to cramp themselves into small space have this luxurious ability to parallel park in tight spaces are assholes. How they do it will forever, and always, be a sin in my check book.
Good news, on the other hand, is that I knew an area with low rates and a good distance from the city's main features. I pointed Julian into the direction, and before we knew it, we exited out o the black Mustang and our quest around the city begins.
"Hold up, give me a second to stretch," I said, beginning to lean over and touch my toes before raising my arms out in different direction. "Okay, I'm done."
Julian processes to walk, and I followed quickly behind him. "Y'know, despite not knowing you a lot this year, I think you're a pretty cool guy." I said, coming by his side. He stops dead in his tracks, and turns to me. I stopped myself from bee-lining into a pole.
"What?"
"Look, I'm not saying I'm a gossip queen or the type of person who would gossip, but I'm best friends with Iris Bhatt and I know things," I said, holding out my hands defensively. "And I know that Tasha broke up with you before she left at the beginning of sophomore year."
He doesn't say anything but his eyes are fixed on mine, awaiting my next speech, "and I didn't want to say anything in the car because I felt that we deserve that minute of silent—but you're pretty cool from what I can tell. I just wanted you to know that."
I fast-forward my pace now; waiting to give the compliment away and ended it there. I knew Julian was more than just a cool guy; he was sweet, kind and shy. He makes funny jokes sometimes and hates mangos. I knew Julian back in middle school, last having a good conversation with him near the end of eighth grade. However, it didn't lessen my manifesting crush on the boy, but what stopped was because of the girl he ends up dating a few months later.
I didn't speak to Julian much after his girlfriend and him became a thing; and I stopped myself from sending the Miss Incomplete letters by the end of eighth grade. It was due to a small hope that ignited in me selfishly for believing he would drop his girlfriend and somehow fall for me. When I realised he wouldn't, I stopped and wanted their relationship to blossom into the best possible version.
Whatever. What I wanted to go to was the fact that after Tasha broke off with him in sophomore year before leaving the next day, was that I knew he changed. I didn't see it all the time but Graham spoke in vivid words and I sometimes see him acting different from the boy I liked. He was more distant, he didn't like to crack jokes as much, and he seems like an overall changed person.
However it was, I didn't try to pursue Julian after his breakup, knowing that what's worst than being picked over is that you're nothing but a rebound. Plus, on the light side, I was trying to move on.
"Hey, hey!" A hand clamped on my shoulder, pulling me to a halt. I turn around to see Julian a bit breathless, "why... why are you walking so fast?"
"The city is a large building ahead, we have a lot of walking to do if we want to do anything at all," I replied, knowing that wasn't the sole reason why I was basically running, "so, what are we doing today?"
Julian drops his grip on me and rested his arms by his side. His eyes searching around the building, "I don't know; you recommended it."
"I guess," I said, proceeding to walk. I scanned over the buildings, jumping from one brand to another. "I know the city inside and out. But right now, I'm completely blank on where to go."
"You know the city inside and out, huh?" Julian's voice peeked a challenge. I nod, feeling a confidence inside me. He begins to point to buildings and asks have I've ever been there, and describe a clue of the store.
I found myself answering yes to most of his challenges before he points over to a boxing chain. I shook my head, reading over the ascription of the words as they classify their membership and their ownership. It was a quarter size of regular buildings, but in decent shape and condition with a two-levelled storage.
"You don't?" Julian gasps in forged shock, "the infamous Francena Nakamura doesn't know this building?"
I chuckle, shaking my head once more, "I'm not that much into fighting, and neither is my little brother, so what's the point?" I declare, before we pulled to a halt at the pedestrian stop. I turn to the side of my right, seeing an ice cream building.
It was decorated in colourful coordination of various ice cream colours, topped with chocolate chips and other added-on toppings. I found myself licking my lips unconsciously.
Julian follows my stare and locked onto the ice cream shop, he turns back to me, "you want one?" He asks, jabbing his thumb towards the shop's direction; I quickly shake my head.
"it's okay, you don't have to," I conclude.
"What flavour do you like?" Julian queries, walking over to grab a hold of the door's metal handle and creaking it slightly opened as a bell announce his arrival.
"Julian, it's chill—"
"Francena, flavour."
I sigh, feeling no use to argue with the sternness of his tone. "Green tea."
"Coming right up," he jumps into the store, quick with his long legs as the door slaps close after him. I couldn't see what he was doing with all the decoration stuck on the window of the store, but I assumed getting in line. Julian came back out a few moments later, and hands me a waffle cone.
I sigh, taking the ice cream from his hand as he hands me the wrapped paper to keep the cone secure, "I'll pay you back."
"No need," he replied, with a shake of his head. I notice that he got an ice cream of his own. Strawberry. "Consider it a thank you gift for you deciding to help me. And a sort of payment for Miss Incomplete."
"I'm still holding onto the favour."
"As expected," the sign turns green, and we proceed to walk, "Plus, you'll understand how I'm feeling soon enough. Miss Incomplete has such complex riddles."
"Riddles?"
"Not necessarily riddles, hints, but they feel like riddles."
Wait what?
I take a bite of my ice cream, digging my front teeth in as I came into thought. Hints? I've never given hints before.
"STOP," Julian stuck out an arm in front of me, stopping me from continuing to move as a motorbike raced passed us in an incredible speed. Though the walkway was locked for pedestrian at the moment, a dickhead wouldn't wait a few more seconds.
My body slammed into his arm, but he pulled me back and didn't allow me to fall forward. As the bike passed, Julian swore at the driver before dropping his arm by his side. He turns to me, "you good?"
"Peachy."
"Japanese market! Japanese town!" My attention cut away from Julian as I hear the slight mention of my culture; I turn to be greeted with slightly overweight middle-aged man holding out flyers, repeating a chant, "Machi Market—fresh fruit, fresh food! Fresh, fresh, fresh! Come see it!"
I turn back to Julian as I notice he begins to take the last bites onto his waffle cone. A smile creeps onto my face as Julian takes notice before glancing over to my previous direction—at the man. "Why do you need to go to a market store?"
"It's not just a market," I argued, "it's a Japanese market! I know that sounds really lame, but it's not. It's really fun; the shops are set in the open for the customers, they have stands of street food and all that It's like China Town's style but Japanese!"
He sighs, and I grab onto his arm, pouting, "please?"
"Fine," he declare and I let out a squeal from glee. "But I still don't understand why we need to go to the market."
"You said you wanted to get to know me, right? Since we'll be working together?" He nods; I point towards the middle-aged man's direction, "that, is getting to know me. My culture is part of my identity."
He sighs once more but nods, comprehending my words. I grab a hold of his hand, and pull him across the street towards the market.
—
"This, is called kabosu."
"Wait," Julian holds out a finger as he takes the lime-like fruit into his free hand and examine it close in view, "how do you say it again?"
"Kah-bow-su." I pronounced slowly, hoping Julian would catch on with those simple words. I've learnt that Julian knows a good portion of the Japanese language; enough for a formal conversation with my grandmother and much more—but he doesn't know any higher vocabulary. I also learn that Julian has never been to a Japanese market before and has no idea what the hell anything is in the market.
"Kabosu," Julian repeats, finally coming to their syllables. I clapped my hands together, cheering.
"You got it!" I cheered, bringing on a bright smile. "It's looks like a lime, but it's not. It's meant to add flavours to things like fish and hot pots. At least, that's what my sobo taught me."
He mirrors my expression, placing the item back to their stack on the carton. He was careful not to drop it. We proceeded to walk down the arrays of fruits and vegetables, with the addition of meats and seafood. I mainly try to explain the rest of the Japanese-origin fruits.
"This," I point towards the Nashi, "is a pear from Japan, and it's actually my favourite fruit in the entire world. It's really crispy and very juicy. It's not like the westernised pear."
He picks the large yellow pear up, examining their edges. He looks towards the lady watching over her stock, "Watashi wa 1tsu o kōnyū suru koto ga dekimasu? [Can I buy one?]"
The lady's lips slightly parted, staring at the tanned boy speaking Japanese. I figured it was due to the fact that Julian may be Japanese, but also added a mixture of other features. His eyes were Asian but in larger size; his built is stronger and muscular while many Japanese men are leaner. His skin is tanner — probably due to him always being outside in the hot sun — and he was taller that the average Japanese man.
"Sumimasen [Excuse me?]" Julian repeats, giving a slight wave to catch the older lady's attention. She snaps from her stare, and immediately nods her head before rushing over to grab a thin plastic bag for him. She hands him the bag, and he returns in with money. I stare at Julian as he does his interaction, and while he turns to me, I furrow my brows. "What?" He chuckles.
"Why'd you buy it?"
"Because, I want to know why it's your favourite," Julian said, making me giggly inside; he ties the bag securely and hangs it from his fingertips, "and it looks nice."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head in a playful manner, "lame."
He laughs as we venture further down the market, beginning to leave the area where they sold the products and towards the street food vendors. "Yess," I did a silent cheer and snatch up Julian's hand again, pulling him down the lines of vendors.
"What is this?"
"Street food," my eyes scan over the delicious options, in fast pace, "they're usually inexpensive in Japan and usually more out in the open. I mostly eat them when the festivals roll around."
"Festivals?"
"Japanese festivals. My brother and I would head downtown for them—they're in the more secured area, with lots of Japanese folk— and we would celebrate in temples and cheer with Japanese street food."
"Wow," Julian said, slightly flabbergasted. He stops in front of a yakitori vendor, "there's so many things I guess I didn't know about Japanese culture."
"I love the culture," I move closer to the vendor, "my sobo, when I was little, she always told me so many interesting stories about Japan. Their food, their people and taught me culture and traditions. I guess I just fell in love with it. So, anytime there's an event that involves Japanese culture — I'm there."
Julian merely smiles at my words and I reminded myself not to get too involved in only talking about me—this was, after all, something to get to know each other. "Umm, what about you? How much do you know about your culture?"
Julian shrugs, "I know my dad's from Brazil. Born and raised. He came to America on a exchange program and met my mom. She was from Japan. I know a good amount of Portuguese, but I know Japanese more. They both speak English to me at home." He explains, his eyes in thought, "my mom didn't teach me much about culture and traditions, but she taught me about the Japanese dishes, the language, and some formality to greets our family members. Outside of that, there isn't much."
"Oh," I said, finding his story interesting and surprising. "How come you know more Japanese than Portuguese?"
"Like how you speak to your grandma in Japanese? Whenever I visit my own grandma or she visits us, she knows barely any English. So, I speak to her."
"Did you visit her often?"
"I did; she lives with my aunt thirty minutes away and I try to visit as much as I can, but since the start of high school, it kinda... dropped."
"Oh." Not knowing what to reply to that. He doesn't say anything afterwards, but looks away from me and turns to the yakitori station.
"So, what's this?"
"Huh?" I follow his vision, "oh, it's yakitori. It's like grilled chicken on a bamboo stick. They put this certain sauce over it during when they cook it and it makes the meat juicy and flavourful. It's one of my favourites, actually, since you can buy like fifty of them and they give it to you on a stick for you to carry."
"Then, I guess we should try one," he declares before turning to the guy cooking the food. He points down and holds out two fingers and the man understood immediately. The man flips over the yakitori, and hands it to Julian. Julian pays.
The soccer star turns to me, holding out one of the yakitori. I shook my head, "no, it's okay, you should have it. I don't want you to spend too much on me."
"No, it's alright." He assures, continue to hold out the food for me to take.
"No, Julian, I'm serious. I feel bad."
"Well," Julian takes my hand, the one previously holding his, and slaps the bamboo stick onto my palm. "I'll feel like a jackass if I don't offer it to you. Especially since you're the one who helped me discovered this place."
The statement made me blush, and wordless, he closes my fingers around the thin stick. I look back up to Julian as an adorable half-smile appears to his lips.
"I'll buy the next food," I promise, beginning to walk further down the vendors, taking a bite of the yakitori piece one by one. I quicken my pace, not wanting him to see me blush any further.
Julian's long legs caught up to me shortly, biting onto the yakitori meat until its last piece. I finished mine pretty soon afterwards, throwing the bamboo stick into the recycle trash can.
"They're good," Julian declares after a moment of a silent. He drops the stick into the trash can in suit, "I'm definitely getting more next time."
"If you remember this place next time," I teased, my blush flattered and the skin around my cheeks back to their pale normality.
"It's called..." Julian trails off, his eyes locked in thought as he searches for the name. "It means town, right?" He mumbles under his breath as I maintain to hold in my laughter, "Machi Market!"
"Correcto," a small chuckle slipped from my lips, stopping at another street vendor. Julian, who was behind me, stops as well and the swinging bag of a single piece of nashi hits me on impact. I turn to the boy, jabbing a finger to the food's direction, "you want one?"
"What's that?" His eyes following to the nikuman.
"Nikuman; it's like a dumpling filled with pork. It's a Chinese recipe, but hey, it's good. Want one?"
"Yeah sure," he said, about to pull out his wallet when I place my hand over his, stopping him from taking the leather material from his pocket.
"My treat," I smile, turning to the man. I pointed down at the food, held out two fingers and paid. The man hands me two nikumans, and I hand one to Julian.
I waited for him to take the first bite before I bit into mine, wanting to examine his reaction before taking mine. His eyes widen once the flavours melt into his tongue, the soft dough touching his base, and the meat spilling out into his mouth. I giggled, taking in my first bite.
"These are good!"
I smile, agreeing as I nod to him. He continues to take in a couple more bites before whoosh, it's gone. He turns back to the man, asking for another one as the man hands him one, he thankfully pays him.
Julian turns to me, seeing I've finished, "do you want another one?"
"Nah, I'm good."
He nods, as he continues onto the nikuman.
"You two are a good couple." Our eyes snapped towards the direction of the man, his wrinkled skin split into a cheekily smile.
"We're not together!" We said in unison.