"And does 'happily ever after' really exist?"
Melissa's question didn't surprise me; she was a very aware girl, full of doubts, who had witnessed how her family was torn apart by immigration laws. So, I swallowed hard, and seeing the other children waiting for an answer, I knew I had to be clever in how I approached it.
Their innocence was a delicate point, one I didn't want to touch, so as I was about to say something, one of them stood up and shook his head forcefully.
"I'm sorry, Miss Amaya, but that doesn't exist, it's just a fairy tale and nothing more."
He left the reading room, leaving me with an audience of furrowed brows.
"Life isn't entirely happy or entirely bad," I told them honestly. "Every day we live is a mixture of both, and just as there are completely good days, there are also bad or very sad ones. But that doesn't mean we can't always do our best to create our own happy ending."
Some of them nodded and thanked me, then they got up from the floor to go do the activities in their reading workbooks. The librarian gave me a sympathetic smile, and I had no choice but to shrug in response. It wasn't the first time that kids I read to in the library outside of campus had reactions like this.
Moving to Berkeley was the best decision of my life, after leaving Los Angeles with my mother and ending up hiding in San Francisco, having some freedom was paradise. I was never happier than when I was notified that I could study English at UC Berkeley, that I could have the opportunity to specialize to become a teacher. Since I was a child, understanding my language was a great curiosity, but meeting Luisa, my babysitter, and realizing the power I could have by teaching my language to others, made me realize that teaching was my calling.
Luisa was a Venezuelan woman with learning disabilities, and our interactions, along with my desire to communicate with the woman who had become a second mother to me, led me to seek ways to solve her language problems with a lot of patience, care, and creativity. That laid the foundation for what I wanted to do with my life, the dreams I wanted to achieve.
I held onto that despite all the bad things behind me.
Physically, I didn't inherit my mother's features; I wasn't of average size, blonde, or with a slender body. I was born with all the physical traits and characteristics of my Japanese heritage, one that I didn't know well at all, more than what my mother insisted I should know, as my father rarely revealed anything. However, I didn't want to explore it just because; it gave me a perspective of what could be done for the world.
I was a bastard daughter of the Yakuza, one who wasn't wanted by her father, nor loved by that community. I didn't understand it until I was old enough to discover that my father was a dangerous man in the underworld, involved in illegal activities that were against people's health and well-being. Furthermore, finding out that I was an unrecognized, hidden child born from an affair between an oyabun, a Yakuza boss, and a rising model, was like having the blindfold removed from my eyes.
I smiled sadly as I remembered that my father used to visit us whenever he could, trying to teach me about his customs and holding onto the fact that I should learn Japanese from a young age. I did it as a good daughter, as a child who thought he was her greatest hero, so when reality shook me and raised its ugly head, I didn't want to know anything more about him, about the fact that he was married, about his three older children I didn't know, about his intention to always keep me hidden like a dirty secret.
I think I broke when I found out that he and my mother were still in a romantic relationship despite the years. So, I knew very well that happily ever after didn't exist, that the world was full of good days and bad days.
That's just how life was.
When the children finished their activities, they handed their work to me and said goodbye with smiles. They enjoyed coming to read, to learn, to immerse themselves in the tranquility of the deserted library. I sighed heavily and began putting everything away in the children's section. I had a list of the books we had read, as well as those we had yet to read. I was still modifying it, so I focused on checking the shelves and comparing with the available books.
"Have you read 'The Story of Ferdinand' yet?" a voice asked from the other side of the shelf, and I furrowed my brow because I hadn't seen anyone pass by in the three hours I had been in the library.
"Not yet..." I honestly answered the man hidden among the books; someone I couldn't quite see.
"It's an excellent children's book. My nonna used to read it to me every night, and it helped me improve my pronunciation before I came to live in the United States permanently," the man explained.
His tone of voice... I didn't know why, but it put me on edge.
"Well... It's an excellent book, but it can be a bit challenging in some parts for the kids to pronounce," I explained. "Morphologically speaking, it's around a Level A2 in English."
He chuckled modestly, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end in response.
I couldn't deny that I quite liked his laugh.
"Give it a try. It's a book for three to four-year-old kids, it'll work. The words that might be difficult for them can be worked on with exercises and activities like the ones you used before the reading... By the way, you're excellent at that," he said warmly.
"Thank you..."
"Do you spend a lot of time reading to children? You're really good at it..."
"I've been doing it for almost four years with different groups," I admitted with a smile. "It's something I enjoy doing."
"It shows. So, I can infer that you're studying to become an English teacher..."
"Yeah, you could say that," I answered truthfully.
"Well, moving away from the teaching topic and talking more about literature, what authors do you recommend?"
I figured that's why he was there in the library; he must have been looking for some books and ended up caught in the children's reading event.
"It depends on their tastes. I don't know what their preferences are, much less what type of prose they prefer—direct, clever, ornate, or very flowery," I argued firmly.
"Well... I like reality, action, impulsiveness, and good scenes," he pointed out, making me smile. People in the library always asked me for help, but they weren't usually this open. "Oh, and I also like sensual scenes."
That caused my eyebrows to raise and my cheeks to blush.
"Well... If you like that mix, maybe 'Story of O' by Pauline Réage, 'The Lover' by Marguerite Duras, 'Tropic of Cancer' by Henry Miller, or 'Delta of Venus' by Anaïs Nin could be recommended," I suggested, my face burning.
These were considered significant works of erotic literature, but at the same time, they were quite scandalous.
"Did you enjoy them?" he asked with a slightly huskier voice. "I like forming my own opinions."
"Yes, even though they are classic works that haven't aged completely well by today's standards," I indicated, and he laughed heartily.
"It's just that nowadays people are held by moralism... Even though society is much more open to all topics, eroticism is still a taboo everywhere, from the most liberal to the most conservative."
He had spoken a very honest truth; one we couldn't deny.
"Well, those structures need to break at some point because, indeed, these themes need to be questioned... But that doesn't take away from the fact that these creations are excellent, well-written, and not only a milestone in terms of prose but also in their dynamics..."
"Well, I can see you're passionate about writing, literature, and language," he said in a tone I couldn't decipher. "So, let's shift away from the teaching subject and talk more about modern literature. It's quite different from the classics, more direct, and sometimes even dirtier."
He had a point, one that made my veins pulse completely.
"Well, I..."
"How do I admit that I read what's labeled as 'mommy porn'?" I thought with embarrassment.
I remained silent for several seconds, and he encouraged me."Be honest, there's nothing wrong, nothing worse than anything else... We can have varied tastes; just as we can like a classic, we can also enjoy something that critics consider bad, and that's okay.""I like paranormal romance stories, human-alien romances, and mysterious creatures transforming into humans," I said with fear, as people often tended to mock these preferences. "I mean...""You like the dirty aspect of those kinds of relationships, right? Or am I mistaken?"His direct and honest conclusion left me speechless, so I was truthful."I like that those were created by women and tailored to our ideals," I admitted, my face flushed. "Within those ideals, there's pleasure, love, and the needs that most women have when it comes to relationships.""Don't you find that concept naive?" he asked, his tone almost sounding mocking.I furrowed my brow at that."Not because it helps us escape from reality...""But it distorts
"Boss, I have the investigation on the Yakuza oyabun, and you won't believe it if I tell you, so I'm leaving you the photos," said Massimo, my most trusted man.I took the folder from his hands, and inside were the movements of the man I was doing business with: Hiroshi Yagami. He played the role of the oyabun of the largest Asian mafia, one that had taken root in California during the diaspora of the Second World War. Like many others, including the Camorra itself that I currently led, they had claimed territory and established themselves until the place became their home.The Japanese mafia wasn't just closed and secretive; they followed a system and codes of honor that were much more rigid than ours. Unlike us, they had a head figure who served as a father to all their members. After being pursued in Asia, Hiroshi migrated here to delve into the foundations of a place that provided him with most of his profits.In the images, I saw him change clothes, distance himself from his two
"The man arrived alone," pointed out Massimo, my Consigliere, best friend, and advisor. That made me smile with pleasure, and I thought about my final offer: fifty million dollars, unrestricted passage from Nevada to Washington state, access to ports and shipments. All of this in exchange for weapons, drugs, and his withdrawal of support in the midst of the war we would wage—a war in which I needed the others to be left isolated, without anyone extending a helping hand when I came without hesitation to kill him."Do you think he'll accept?" I asked my friend, and he looked at me with a furrowed brow."The man isn't foolish; he knows it's a profitable deal with you. But he's one of those who follow ridiculous codes, so he'll want guarantees. As for that, I'm afraid I can't read minds. He's quite unpredictable in his actions. Most of the time, he follows the council's decisions, but there are moments when he acts on his impulses," he explained matter-of-factly. "Discovering his affair a
"You must be joking, Mom," I told my mother after hearing the request she made. She wasn't just asking me to set aside my beliefs, but to give a chance to a man who spoke of righteousness, rights, values, and more, yet lacked respect for his own family through an affair. Moreover, he led one of the criminal organizations causing the most harm to the world.This was outrageous!"No, I'm really letting you know, your father wants to see you, and you should go. The meeting is going to happen, whether you want it or not, and for me, the best thing you could do is approach your father without him being forced to do it," she answered seriously, with a touch of concern in her voice. "He... He wants to mend things, Amaya, so just give him a chance.""I'm sorry, but a person who keeps me as his dirty secret doesn't deserve a chance," I replied and hung up on my mother as quickly as I could, tired of even considering that she might be insistent. Before my father no longer directly interfered in
"This has to be a nightmare...""If it's any consolation, little sister, he's doing it to protect you," Hiro said.The look he got from our father silenced him immediately, enough for him to turn his face away."What are you talking about?""When we get to Los Angeles, we'll talk about everything, I promise you, suki," my father replied, and I furrowed my brow.I shook my head; I was somewhat afraid, and I didn't miss the serious look Hiro gave Hiroshi. It made me wonder if it was something natural, usual, for the oyabun to be so expressive and affectionate. I didn't want to inquire, so I just looked out the window until we reached San Francisco. To my complete astonishment, my mother was waiting at the door with a large suitcase and a handbag."Why are we going home?" I questioned the man of all my troubles."Because your mother wants to see you before we board the plane, and we also came for some of your things," he explained, narrowing his eyes."I need all my assignments, everythi
If anything in this life had surprised me, it was Amaya's appearance in that dress, looking as fabulous as she could and completely unaware of her attractiveness. I glanced at the favored Yagami girls; both wore expressions of consternation. I could guess their thoughts quite well: the more superficial one was probably thinking she had competition for attention, while the power-hungry one assumed she had another rival in the succession line.That made me smile. However, when I saw her stop next to her brother, who surprisingly had his arm linked with hers as a clear sign of respect and acceptance, I heard the most interesting conversation of my life because it revealed something that was in the report: the girl could speak more than one language.Her response in flawless Italian not only surprised my chatty soldiers but also caught the attention of the rest of the community. I remained silent to see what would happen, but I gave a stern look to the idiots who had opened their mouths.
"She... She's not a daughter from my marriage, but the circumstances of her conception are not a relevant topic in light of the fact that she carries my blood, Yakuza blood, and as such, she falls under its mantle and protection," he retorted with utmost seriousness and clarity, emphasizing an intriguing point, a point not beyond comprehension: Amaya was his daughter and had the same rights as the rest. "The process of changing her name, as well as bestowing upon her a new surname, will conclude shortly, and she will officially become a Yagami."The man's wife was boiling with anger, twisted to the point of being shaken entirely. Her daughters were the epitome of modesty, yet they reached out to comfort their mother, while Hiro held his younger sister who seemed on the verge of fainting. With those words, the table fell into silence, and the council members stood to give a small bow to the girl who was on the brink of tears. With that, she had sealed the poor girl's fate, so it was wi
The presentation was a complete nightmare for me.There was no way to lie about it, especially not after the disaster that unfolded.My father had not only revealed the fact that he had fathered me outside of his marriage, which in itself was an expression of wanting to marginalize me in front of everyone, but he had also made a public declaration that they would protect me no matter what, which meant I had to adhere to certain principles that I knew nothing about.I felt completely out of sorts, out of my own skin.It was a complete disaster, much bigger than I had expected, and I was nervous, especially after he announced that a member of the Camorra, the most violent Italian mafia of all, would marry one of his daughters. This, after the announcement of my paternity, included me and meant an even greater disaster.I didn't want to get involved in this world, I wanted nothing to do with either side, I just wanted to live my life in peace, far away from everything and everyone. So wh