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Good Morning, America – Part 02

Colorful breakfast dishes representing a mix of cultures, from East Asian to Southern American, began appearing on the low table. Red peas stewed in an Arita ware bowl and long-grain rice wrapped and steamed in large green leaves, a collaboration between Ruri and her African American cook.

Victorique had changed into a pink yukata with cherry blossom petals, prepared by Ruri. The soft colors contrasted beautifully with her flowing silver hair. Ruri was busy tying a light blue obi around her.

Kazuya was formally seated at the table, surrounded by food and three newspapers.

The leading newspaper carried serious headlines like “Explosion at the Apocalypse” and “The Terrible Truth Behind La Guardia.” In contrast, the second-rate paper, Daily Road, featured headlines such as “Wonder Girl Appears in Manhattan’s Night.” The same events were reported from various angles depending on the newspaper.

Rokushou climbed onto the table. Shocked by the large photo of Wonder Girl on the front page of the Daily Road, he fell backward, rolling like a rice ball, before crawling back. He glanced back and forth between the photo and Victorique, then stared captivated at her small, beautiful face.

Noticing Rokushou’s gaze, Kazuya also looked at Victorique. Seeing her in the yukata with a cherry blossom pattern made him smile.

“Ruri used to wear that when she was younger,” he said. “I remember when our family went to Ueno Park for cherry blossom viewing.”

“Me too,” Ruri nodded. “Good thing I brought it with me. It fits Victorique perfectly.”

A breeze blew in from the window, flipping the newspaper pages.

Ruri smiled. “It’s quite something to see Victorique on the front page of the newspaper.”

Victorique groaned softly. Ruri opened the newspaper with both hands and started reading.

“Oh my, I see Kazuya’s also mentioned in the paper. I’ll cut it out and frame it right away.”

Kazuya quickly stopped her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t see this every day. I’ll buy another copy later and send it to the family back home.”

“Th-That’s even worse!”

Ruri peeked out from behind the newspaper. “Why? Father and Mother are worried. Even our wild brothers must somewhat feel the same.” She leaned forward, and Kazuya pulled back. “We should let them know you’ve arrived and are doing well. Look, here’s writing paper, envelopes, a brush, and ink.”

“Ah…”

“Come now. I’ll grind the ink for you just like old times. I used to do this when you were studying. It feels just like yesterday.”

“Yeah, I remember. You once spilled ink and made my textbook all black.”

“What? I don’t remember that. That must have been Mother.”

“No, it was you, Ruri.”

“Well, never mind that! Father mentioned something in the letter he sent last week.” Ruri changed the subject.

“A letter from Father?” Kazuya asked anxiously.

Ruri returned with what looked like a letter of challenge written with a brush and opened it up. Victorique looked up at Ruri, who suddenly straightened her posture like the former teacher that she was.

“That boy!” Ruri read aloud with emotion and gestures. “I don’t know where he went, but he’s bound to come back whining!”

Stunned, Kazuya stayed silent. Ruri made an even scarier face.

“Unlike his manly brothers, Kazuya is a timid and frail child!”

She seemed to enjoy mimicking her father, even getting on one knee and looking at the ceiling like a character from a play.

“He will never find a decent job with his power alone. Worse, he won’t even have a place to live!”

Kazuya listened with discontent.

“At best…” Ruri squared her delicate shoulders to their utmost limit and raised one arm to the sky. “He will live in a shack!”

“Father is as harsh as always.”

“And that mischievous, mean, manju-stealing foreigner! Manju-stealing? Foreigner? Oh, that’s the end!”

Ruri returned to a stern expression and put the letter away. She glanced worriedly at Victorique.

Kazuya took the letter from Ruri, his anger flaring. “How could Father speak badly of Victorique? She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, it’s strange,” Ruri agreed.

Victorique seemed uninterested. Kazuya hung his head and fell into thought.

Ruri fixed her posture. Her face took on a grave look. “Kazuya, despite Father’s harsh words, he’s right about the job situation. There are too many immigrants here, so finding work is a fierce competition. And apartments are scarce.”

Kazuya’s face grew increasingly tense. Victorique rubbed her eyes and let out a big yawn.

Rokushou admired Victorique’s yukata eagerly, then nudged her off the cushion with both hands.

Victorique curled up, feeling drowsy. Kazuya sank into deep thought.

Ruri shook her fist. “I can’t believe Father would say that!” Then, noticing her brother’s distress, she asked, “Kazuya, what’s wrong? Is something bothering you? Come on, write a reply.” She pushed writing paper and an inkstone towards him.

Kazuya shook his head slowly and glanced at Victorique. “I won’t write just yet. First, I need to find a job and then a home.”

“Weren’t you listening to me? I said it won’t be easy.”

“I-I get that. But I’ll write to Father after I’ve taken care of that. Yeah!” Kazuya clenched his fist, nodding to himself.

“But when will that be? Let’s forget about our bossy and mean father. Mother is worried too, you know.”

“I’ll give it my all. For Vic… I mean, as a man… Never mind!” He glanced down at Victorique.

She was struggling with a steamed rice leaf packet, unsuccessfully trying to unwrap it before growing sleepy again.

Ruri propped an elbow on the table, thoughtfully pulling at her black hair while observing her brother’s face. Kazuya took Victorique’s leaf packet and peeled it open. He let out a sigh.

Ruri and the young Black cook cleared away the breakfast, and hot water was poured into teacups.

The sunlight grew stronger, marking the start of the day.

Victorique started dozing off. Her rich white-blonde hair spread out on the tatami, creating a large vortex. A light blue, butterfly-shaped sash peeked through her shining hair. She resembled a small grandmother nodding off on the veranda.

Rokushou began arranging toys on the low table: a model of a Wolf Car, a mysterious person in black clothes, a motorcycle, a group of white-bearded hermits in thin robes, and a sailing ship. He positioned them facing Victorique as though preparing for battle. Since Victorique was asleep and unaware, he shook her shoulders roughly.

Victorique woke up abruptly and groggily pushed her plump palms against Rokushou’s face.

“Go away. You’re so annoying… ugh!”

Rokushou growled angrily. He grabbed a hermit and struck Victorique’s head with it.

Victorique’s eyes snapped wide in surprise. Tears welled up, and her golden eyelashes quivered.

“Th-Th-That…”

Ruri bustled around the living room. The young Black cook, her large chest incongruous with her petite frame, followed closely behind.

Kazuya stood by the window, gazing at the splendid garden and skyscrapers beyond.

We’ve come a long way, he thought. I’m scared, but I must protect the small and fragile Victorique. Determination crossed his anxious face. He pressed his lips and nodded firmly.

The bamboo blind flitted in the breeze, and sunlight filtering through fell on the floor. The green trees were blinding.

“That hurt.”

Kazuya turned abruptly at Victorique’s voice. He threw out his chest and put his hands on his hips.

“I’m right here, so don’t you worry. First, let’s find you a home. And if possible, it’d be nice to have some sweets and a little mystery to pass the time. For that, I need a job first.” He lowered his voice gradually. “As a man, I’ll create a wonderful paradise for you and protect it. Hey, Victorique? Are you listening? Are you playing with Rokushou?”

Victorique held a golden pipe in her right hand and a toy train in her left, waving them around. But she seemed to be losing the battle as Rokushou wielded a hermit and the sailboat against her.

Kazuya sighed in disbelief. “Are you two fighting again? Remember, there’s an age difference. As the older one, you should let him…” He trailed off, perplexed.

Rokushou hit Victorique’s head with the hermit. Taking advantage of her confusion, he snatched Victorique’s cushion with a triumphant cry, then plopped down on his peach-colored bottom. Unconcerned, Victorique settled on a different cushion.

The cushions were bright in red, pink, and orange, but adorned with eerie patterns of skulls, tigers, and bats. Victorique, like an old cat, nodded off again. Rokushou hit Victorique’s head hard. Victorique growled. Rokushou snatched away another cushion. Victorique started dozing off once more.

Kazuya’s expression darkened. He tried to discreetly retrieve the cushion, but Rokushou noticed and let out a growl.

Kazuya sat down beside Victorique, shoulders slumped. “From today onward, I’ll be running around to protect you. And then, I’ll update Father. I’ll tell him that you and I are settling well in this city. So… um, yeah.”

“Oh…”

“You sound like you don’t care. Oh, are you falling asleep again?”

Half-awake, Victorique replied, “No, I was listening out of sheer boredom. Be grateful.”

“Wh-Why should I be grateful? Wait, are you bored already?”

Victorique’s emerald eyes gazed into the distance. She cast Kazuya a cold glance, then suddenly opened her mouth like a mechanical doll.