Emmy And Me

Back in the suite, I thanked Michael for dropping everything and coming to Japan. “I don’t know if things would have gone any differently without you guys here, but it was very reassuring to have the four of you to back me up, and to make a show of it.”

“When you say you need us, we will always, always do whatever is required,” he said. “Don’t think of it as a hardship. In truth, it’s an honor for all of us to follow your commands.”

Mr Lascaux announced himself with a knock, and the three of us settled into the couches in the suite’s living room to discuss how the meeting had gone. Well, at least, that’s how the conversation started, but soon enough it wandered into talk about families. Michael admitted that he was concerned for his daughter’s upcoming freshman year at Williams College, but was happy that her best friend had also been accepted and they were hoping the two could room together in the dorms.

“It will be difficult, knowing that my daughter is three thousand miles away,” Michael said.

“I understand completely,” Mr Lascaux commiserated. “When Émeraude insisted that she wished to attend Stanford, her mother and I were very… anxious about her living on her own. We knew that we had prepared as best as we possibly could have done, but still…”

“I guess it was a little bit the same with Grace going to NAU. I mean, she had a foot halfway out the door her entire senior year, but I still had a hard time looking at her and not seeing the scared fourteen-year-old girl I’d first taken in. I was sure she was going to do fine, but it still tugged at my heart when she drove away to Flagstaff,” I said. Thinking about it for a long moment, I said, “It probably won’t be quite the same for Angela and Emmy Jrs, though. We’ve all talked about it, and we want our girls to grow up knowing all aspects of their various family branches. I know you and Emmy’s mom want the girls to spend time in France, and we do, too. We also want them to know Colombia, so this will probably mean summers in France once they get old enough, and maybe a year abroad in Cartagena when the time comes. With all that time away from home, we might not even notice when they go off to college.”

“Jassie has spoken of perhaps doing a year abroad in college,” Michael said with a smile, thinking about his teenaged daughter. “The thought terrifies me, but also fills me with pride.”

“She would be very welcome in Paris,” Mr Lascaux said.

“Maybe I should nudge her that way. She’s taken French in school- although she would hate me for telling anybody, she wanted to learn Emmy’s native tongue. Perhaps I should suggest that she take further French classes at Williams,” Michael said.

“I would be very happy to sponsor her if she wishes to study at the Sorbonne,” Mr Lascaux said. “She could come over for summers to improve her French, so Université will not be such a shock.”

“Thank you. I will talk to her about it,” Michael said.

Turning to me, Mr Lascaux asked, “You, Angela and Émeraude have discussed the Princesses spending summers with us in Paris?”

“We have, and we think it’s a great idea. I suggested to Emmy and Angela that we could spend that time in London, so we could be close if need be, and that seemed to be enough assurance for the two of them. I said we could see the girls on weekends or whatever, and that was all it took.”

“Do you mean to say that you were the driving force behind the idea, not Émeraude?” Mr Lascaux asked, surprised.

“Well, she had suggested that the girls could spend time with you and Emmy’s mother, but I was the one who pushed for extended stays, not just visits,” I confirmed. “As funny as it sounds, it might be more important to me than to Emmy that the girls learn the old ways.”

“You wish for Angela’s child to learn our ways?” Mr Lascaux asked, again surprised.

“Of course I do. Both girls need to learn the cultures they came from, and that means learning Spanish and spending time in South America for Emmy’s baby, and French and maybe the language of the Night Children for Angela’s, too. The girls will be our own little melting pots of cultures.”

“This is welcome news,” Mr Lascaux said, leaning back with a smile on his face. “Welcome news, indeed.”

Changing the subject, I asked Mr Lascaux when he was heading back to Paris and he said that he was going to take off in three hours. When I mentioned that my guys were leaving in the morning, he got a thoughtful look on his face.

“Leah, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Of course- I do owe you a big one for dropping everything to come to Tokyo,” I replied.

“May I borrow Michael and your men for a few days? They could fly back to Paris with me tonight, and I’ll fly them to Los Angeles afterwards.”

“San Jose, not LA, but what do you need their help for?” I asked.

“It has been hard to convince my people to show their faces. It would do a lot of good for them to meet and talk to other Night Children who have been out of hiding for years now.”

“Would you be O.K. with this?” I asked Michael.

“Outreach is outreach, right?” he asked with a shrug. “I think it could be a good thing all around.”

Before they all left to go to the airport, I reminded Michael to think about living on the East Coast. “Maybe just for a year? Maybe longer, if it makes sense?” I suggested. “As a bonus, you’ll be closer to Jassie’s school, too.”

Later that night, snuggling with Emmy and Angela, I told them how the meeting went. “I think we’ve given them a lot to think about, but I’d bet that in the end they realize we’re right.”

“I still cannot believe that there have been Night Children here in Japan and nobody had known of them until now,” Emmy said.

“I can’t believe ninjas are real!” Angela said. “This is all so crazy!”

“I know, right?” I agreed. Then, changing the subject, I told them of the conversation I’d had with Emmy’s dad about our girls spending time with their grandparents. “Ange, he loved the idea that we want little Angie Jr to spend time with them, too. Every vibe I’ve gotten from him and Em’s mom is that they already think of her as their granddaughter.”

“Good,” Angela said. “Because I think that, too. And I know Mamí and Papí have talked about how wonderful it’ll be to have two little baby nietas to spoil.”

“I also told Em’s dad that when the girls get older we might send them down to Cartagena for a year of school, so they can really get to know the family and culture down there. He thought that was a great idea,” I said, kissing Angela’s hair. “I told him we want our girls to be the product of all three families equally.”

Angela gave me a squeeze, making a soft, happy little sound.

“It still seems like a dream to me,” Emmy admitted.

I just finished my shower after my morning workout when the suite’s phone rang. I hurried to grab it before it woke Angela and Emmy up. It was the front desk, telling me that I had visitors waiting.

I dressed quickly and made my way down to the lobby, surprised to see two Night Child men sitting on one of the couches. It only took me a moment to recognize that it was the two Oshidas, but they looked very different without their makeup on. They also looked really uncomfortable, but a quick glance around showed that they really weren’t attracting much, if any interest.

I sat down on the couch facing them. “Good morning, gentlemen,” I said. “Does this mean you’ve come to a decision?”

After his grandson translated, Mr Oshida said, indicating his face, “This is an experiment. The two of us are going to show ourselves here in Tokyo for the next three days to see what happens.”

“Let’s go grab a bite to eat,” I suggested, standing up and indicating they should follow me outside. They were clearly nervous, but determined. They walked with me across the big plaza between the hotel and the Tokyo Dome itself. The otaku girls were already there in decent numbers, and they stared a bit at the two men, but I think that was simply not understanding why these old geezers would make themselves up to look like Emmy but then not wear the white wigs…

“Look around,” I said to the two men as we walked. “You see these girls. They don’t understand why Emmy looks the way she does, but they love it anyway. What do you think they’ll do when they find out that Japan has its own people that look that way?”

Grandpa Oshida looked thoughtful when Hayate translated my question for him. Once we gave our orders at the food court to a puzzled-looking young guy and then took our seats, Mr Oshida finally replied.

“I honestly do not know,” he admitted. “Fifteen hundred years of secrecy is a hard habit to break, and it is a very big secret. As Mr Lascaux said last night, America is a young country and doesn’t have the traditions that we do here. Japan does not have a very good history with peoples viewed as outsiders, I am sorry to say, and we worry that we will be treated as such.”

“Not to get political about it,” I replied, pausing when the waitress brought our food to our table, giving the three of us odd looks. “But honestly, our culture doesn’t, either. I wish we were open and welcoming to everybody, but that just isn’t reality. But this is the twenty-first century. Things are getting better in that regard. At least, they are in some places.”

When Hayate translated for his grandfather, the old man nodded thoughtfully.

“Also,” I pointed out, “you aren’t really ‘other’. Your history is famous as a part of Japanese culture. Everybody knows about shinobi. I guarantee you everybody in Japan knows and considers it an important part of the nation’s cultural identity. Seriously, I think that you could really make it work for you.”

“This is true,” Hayate said without translating for his grandfather. “Although the current knowledge is very… far from historical reality.”

“Then that’s where you start. Find some respected historians, and tell them that your clans have ancient scrolls or whatever that have to do with a thousand plus years of Japanese history. I imagine you do have such writings hidden away somewhere, right?” I asked.

After translating our conversation to his grandfather, the old man spoke.

“We do,” Hayate admitted.

“So do we,” I told him. “Our written history goes back five thousand years. We have those ancient writings hidden away, prized by our, um, clans, I guess, as precious beyond any measure. I’m trying to convince people like Mr Lascaux to open up to historians, just the way I’m suggesting to you. Also,” I added, “I’m very wealthy, and so is Mr Lascaux. If you need any sort of financial help, let me know.”

The two men discussed back and forth for a while. While they talked I quietly I ate my breakfast, which was tasty enough even though I had no idea what it actually was. Eventually Hayate asked me if the whole idea of coming into the light was my idea.

“No, it started with Emmy’s parents. Somewhere around thirty years ago they realized that hiding was no longer going to be an option, so they shed the makeup and revealed themselves to the world. They did it to prove to their people in Europe that it could be done- should be done. They have been a part of Western Europe’s high society and rich industrialists for decades now. When Madame Lascaux got pregnant, they decided they would raise Emmy in the daylight from the moment she was born. When Emmy and I met, I had never seen a Night Child showing herself like that before. I started to see the possibilities, and declared that our people should do as Emmy did. Some resisted, but most have embraced the freedom,” I explained, fudging the details just a little bit.

“But you- you are not…” Hayate started to object, but didn’t quite know how to say it without insulting me.

“No, I’m not blessed by the night,” I agreed. “We don’t have quite the same taboos that you do on mixing with day walkers. In fact, our gene pool is small enough that without outsiders mixing in we would probably have died off a long time ago. Our birth rate is very low as it is.”

Hayate nodded in understanding, then translated it to his grandfather. The two talked for a bit, but the old man didn’t seem to have any questions for me.

Hayate did, though. “If you are the Queen of America and Mr Lascaux the King of Europe…” he began, unsure how to ask. “What is his daughter to you?”

“She is my first wife,” I told him. “I have two wives.”

“This is legal in America?” Hayate asked, surprised.

“No, it isn’t,” I admitted. “My second wife is not legally recognized, unfortunately.”

He took a while to think about what I’d said, prompting his grandfather to ask him what we’d just talked about. At least, that was what I assumed their conversation was about. Again, it seemed as if the old man didn’t have any questions, but Hayate did.

“The knife that you have showed us- it seemed as if you have used it before.”

“Well, not this one,” I admitted, tapping my sleeve. “This one is new. But the blade I have at home, yes, I do use it once in a while, when needed. You know, it was your daggers that first made me recognize that you might be the shinobi of myth,” I told him. “The fact they’re straight, not curved like traditional tantos. That, and their simple, unadorned nature.”

“We don’t talk much about our shinobi past,” Hayate admitted. “But it is still a part of who we are.”

“Do your people still train in the old ways?” I asked, curious.

“A few do. Mostly old men, now, holding onto dreams of past glory,” Hayate said with a shrug.

“I would pay good money to have this training for my men,” I said. “Of course, we have our similar traditions, but it’s always good to learn new techniques. I myself just spent some time training in Singapore with a master of hand-to-hand combat, and learned a lot.”

“Your men were very impressive last night,” Mr Oshida said after Hayate had translated. “They moved with such confidence.”

“They’re good men,” I replied. “They honor me with their loyalty.”

After breakfast, I told Hayate to call me in a week and let me know how things are going and we parted ways. They went off to wander around Tokyo to gauge the public’s reaction to the two of them, while I went back to the hotel suite to my honeys.

“Where were you?” Emmy asked as she brushed Angela’s long black hair.

“Two of the local Night Children wanted to talk,” I said. “I think they’re going to join us.”

“Did they tell you that?” Angela asked.

“No, but it was easy to see where those two’s thoughts were going. They showed up this morning without makeup, just testing the waters. They are going to spend the next couple of days here in Tokyo showing their faces just to see how it goes.”

“That is incredible,” Emmy said, pausing what she was doing. “I could never have imagined that this would happen.”

“No,” I agreed. “Me, either.” Then, changing the subject, I asked what the two of them wanted to do that day.

“Jenna and Andy want to see a puppet play tonight,” Angela said. “I guess it ’s a thing here?”

“They are not like ordinary puppets,” Emmy assured her, giving her a kiss on the top of the head. “I have seen videos- I think it would be fascinating.”

“Works for me,” I said with a shrug.

We had lunch that afternoon with Emmy’s dad before he and his crew took off for France, and I told him about the two locals and how they were trying out living without makeup.

“That is how it starts,” he said with a satisfied nod.

“Leah mentioned that she told you that we want our little girls to spend time in France with you and Em’s maman,” Angela said, using the French word. “It’ll be so wonderful for our babies!”

“Yes, the Madame and I are elated to hear that our little princesses will spend time with us,” Mr Lascaux said, smiling broadly. “This is very important to us, Angela. Very important.”

“Important to us, too,” Angela said, her smile lighting up her pretty face.

After lunch Jenna and Andy came over to our suite to hang out for a few hours until we went to see the puppet show. I had some work to catch up on so I wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, but my ears pricked up when I heard Jenna ask Angela why she was watching a car racing video. I glanced over to see everybody crowded in front of Angela’s laptop.

“I’ve been watching a lot of rally car videos,” Angela admitted. “I’ve been thinking it’s something me and Lee could do together.”

“That looks… What is all that stuff that guy is saying?” Jenna asked.

“Those are the rally pace notes,” Angela explained. “The co-driver is telling the driver what to expect ahead, so the driver knows what to set up for.”

“What does any of that mean?” Andy asked.

“‘Three hundred left four’ means in three hundred meters there will be a fourth-gear left turn. Now, there’s the turn,” Angela said as they watched. “The driver and co-driver usually make the pace notes on their reconnaissance runs. So the guidance from the pace notes is only as good as their effort into it. Some events, usually the longer ones, the rally organizers provide the pace notes and the drivers and co-drivers just have to trust them.”

I was amazed at how much she seemed to know about all this- way more than I did, that was for sure. And us rally racing as a team? This was the first I’d heard of it, but clearly she’d been giving it some thought and doing her research. Of course, she’d always seemed to enjoy our Saturday morning drives, but this was another level.

“I think it’s awesome that you and Lee are gonna do this,” Andy said. “But don’t you need a special kind of car?”

“We have one already,” Angela said, pulling out her phone, presumably to show Andy and Jenna pics of the rallied-out Porsche.

“I would be happy enough to simply watch,” Emmy said with that pretty laugh of hers. “I do not enjoy speed the way these two do.”

Emmy didn’t don her pink wig and makeup for our evening out, opting to go out in public looking like herself. I thought it was a bold choice, but supported her decision. Andy wouldn’t tell us anything about the restaurant where he’d made our reservation, but his mischievous grin worried me a little bit.

The National Theatre was unimpressive for a place with such a grand name. It wasn’t terrible or run-down, just dated. It looked as if it hadn’t been renovated since the Eighties, but I guess that was fine. It’s not like we came for the ambience, after all. Andy functioned as our tour guide since he spoke Japanese, which was nice. It meant we didn’t have to drag Mizuki from whatever other duties she might have to translate for us, after all. He guided us to a counter where we were handed headsets that would allow us to hear the performance in English, but Andy opted to do without.

“These last ten days have been awesome for my Japanese,” he said. “I mean, take all the conversational-level classes you want, but actually using it like this… Well, that’s another thing altogether.”

“No lie,” I agreed. “For me, that’s French. I mean, I can fumble my way through a conversation in Paris, you know, but if I had, say, a month of living there? I’m sure it would make all the difference in the world.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Jenna grumped playfully as we wandered the upper level of the entry hall, looking at the traditional Japanese paintings on the wall. “All of you are bilingual, but I can hardly speak English!”

“Emmy speaks five languages,” I said. “She makes me feel like an idiot.”

“Five?” Jenna demanded, turning to Emmy. “That’s why I can only speak one. You’re hogging them all!”

Emmy laughed. “My Spanish and Arabic are not very good,” she said with a shrug.

“Unfair!” Jenna said with a laugh.

I have no idea what I was expecting, but the puppet show we saw did not fit in with my expectations of what a puppet show could be. The puppets themselves were maybe four feet tall, and each one had a team of guys all in black working them while standing right behind the puppets in plain sight. The movements were very stylized, but also somehow very real- almost as if the puppets were actors in a very traditional form of theater. After a while I stopped even noticing the guys actually moving the figures- they simply became part of the background as the puppets became the sole focus.

The story was very, well, ridiculous, but again, in a very traditional sort of way. Andy had explained that we were actually only seeing the second half of the whole play- the first half had been performed earlier that day- but the usual tropes of overbearing father, noble-hearted young man, sad daughter and so on were enough of a shorthand that filling in the blanks was easy enough.

Everybody seemed to have enjoyed the show, but I wasn’t going to be in any real hurry to see another. The puppets themselves were amazing and the way their crews manipulated them was so cool it was hard to even express, but the story was trite and the music (performed by a traditional Japanese symphony) was strange and dissonant enough that I was happy to be done with it.

The cab I shared with Andy was the last of our three cabs to leave (since he had to give the address to the other two cab drivers before we could take off), so when we got to the destination everybody was already gathered outside the black-painted restaurant front.

“Oh, you didn’t!” I exclaimed when I saw the name of the place, done in English but stylized to look like Japanese characters.

“I couldn’t resist,” Andy admitted with that lopsided grin of his.

He turned to the kimono-clad hostess and spoke to her for a moment. She bowed and ushered us in through the split curtain and into the ninja-themed restaurant.

We followed her down the dimly-lit tatami mat-covered hallway and into a private room. From what I could tell, it was all private-room seating, which I found interesting. The tables, though, were western-style with actual chairs- no kneeling on pillows here, thankfully.

The waiter was clad all in black, of course, carrying the theme. Thankfully he spoke and handed us menus in English, making our lives a bit easier.

Despite the comical Disneyfication of the myth in service of the restaurant’s theme, the food was excellent and the service was faultless. My Wagyu steak was superb- I made a note to come back the next time I found myself in Tokyo, which, I reflected might be a thing that happens if the local Night Children decide on close relations with our nation.

I guess I was zoning out thinking about that, when Angela touched my arm to get my attention.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, curious.

With a chuckle, I said, “Maybe buying this restaurant and putting some of our new friends to work here,” I replied honestly. “That, and how much I love you.”

“Did you hear that?” Jenna demanded, elbowing Andy.

“Yeah, she just said she might buy this restaurant and put real ninjas to work,” he replied, but his little smile gave away that he knew what she was fishing for.

“Not that part, you big goof! Why do I even bother?”she said, raising her hands in mock dismay.