* * *

As soon as we get off the flight, we see Jason waiting for us, looking effortlessly cool in sunglasses and a black tee. Leah breaks out into a run, throwing her arms around him in a hug. “Jason, this is unreal!” she cries. He laughs, hugging her back.

I approach more slowly, a cautious smile spreading across my lips. “Is this really Tokyo?”

He grins, opening the door of the car. “Find out for yourself. Get in.”

We pile into the car, and the driver pulls us smoothly out of the airport and onto the highway. Leah rolls down the window and sticks her head out. We zoom past tall buildings with bright neon signage and blocky, minimalist-style houses on quieter residential streets. I can’t believe it. We’re really in Tokyo.

I pull out my phone to text Akari and tell her where we are, but Jason swipes it from my fingers. “Hey, hey, no phones on self-care day. Today is all about relaxing.”

I feel guilty, but I let him pocket my phone. Between training and the school trip to Jeju, I still haven’t had time to catch up with her since the dress rehearsal at DB, but I vow to take a mental snapshot of everything I see and add it to the massive list of things I can tell Akari about when we finally get to have our epic catch-up session.

Jason smiles at me like an excited puppy, and I find myself smiling back. “All right, self-care master. What’s on the itinerary?”

“What else? Lunch!”

The car pulls to a stop. Jason climbs out, holding the door open for me and Leah. “Have you two ever been to Japan before?”

We both shake our heads, and he grins. “Well, then, you’re in for a treat. Welcome to Harajuku.”

I’m speechless. Everything is popping with color, from the Technicolor shop signs to the rainbow spun cotton candy people are eating as they walk down the street. And the outfits! I suddenly feel basic in my yellow sundress. Everyone here is striking in pink tulle skirts, retro knee socks, and dresses covered top to bottom in enamel pins. I admire a girl with ombre violet hair sporting a metallic varsity jacket and a purse in the shape of a Coca-Cola bottle.

It’s official. I love it here.

Jason takes Leah’s hand and pulls her into a restaurant as I follow behind them. It feels like we’ve stepped into a box of Crayola markers. A waitress with long sparkly eyelashes, wearing a bright-green wig, ushers us inside with a big smile and a grand sweep of her arm. “Welcome to the Kawaii Monster Café!” She leads us into a room with candy-colored chandeliers and pink-and-yellow striped walls. All around us there are giant plastic macarons and furry blue and purple lamps.

Leah squeezes my hand. “Unni, I think we’re in paradise.”

We scroll through the touch-screen menu and order way too much food: pasta with rainbow-colored noodles, chocolate chicken, sandwiches with multicolored dipping sauces, drinks bursting with edible glitter, and an incredible parfait topped with a slice of colorful roll cake and an upside-down ice-cream cone. I glance at Jason, laughing as the two of us order more and more food, convinced that he’s going to transform into the Mad Hatter at any moment.

“I feel like I’m eating a unicorn,” Leah says, digging her spoon into everything. “Should I feel bad?”

“Don’t worry. It was most likely made by unicorns, not from them,” Jason reassures her. I smile at him as Leah digs into her food, charmed by how good he is with her. There aren’t many guys who would be up for spending an entire day with a thirteen-year-old girl.

Next to me Leah is polishing off one sandwich and starting on a second. “Slow down,” I say, nudging her. “You’re going to get a stomachache.”

She dutifully puts down the sandwich and starts munching on some pink fries.

Through all the excitement of seeing Harajuku for the first time, I had completely forgotten about my nerves. But as I sit there with Jason’s elbow mere inches from mine, my whole body starts to tingle—like that feeling you get when the blood rushes to your foot after it’s fallen asleep. Or when you’re doing something that you know you absolutely should not be doing but you can’t bring yourself to not do it.

“So what do you think of this place?” Jason asks. When I don’t answer right away, he pretends to look upset. “Don’t tell me they have the exact same café in New York. After I tried so hard to find somewhere unique.”

I tease him to cover up my quivering voice. “Oh yeah, I used to go every weekend. I basically grew up on rainbow carbs.”

“You know what that makes you?” He leans in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Part unicorn?” I whisper back.

“Actually, I was going to say a leprechaun.”

I burst out laughing, my nerves slowly ebbing away. Maybe I’m overthinking things. DB might control almost my entire life, but even they couldn’t say that me and Jason watching my little sister gorge herself on food that looks like unicorn poop constitutes a date. Today can just be a fun, relaxing day with Jason. Jason, whose company I enjoy. Jason, who looks really cute digging into that glittery mac and cheese…

Get a grip, Rachel.

* * *

“Where are we going next?” Leah asks as Jason leads us down the busy street after lunch.

“Ever played Mario Kart before?” Jason asks.

Leah and I exchange glances. “A couple of times,” I say. “Why? Are we going to an arcade?”

His eyes gleam with mischief. “Not exactly.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’re gearing up to get into actual go-karts to drive around the city for a real-life Mario Kart tour. Jason’s even come prepared with hats: one in the shape of Yoshi’s head, a giant Toad mushroom hat, and a blond Princess Peach wig with a crown fixed to the top.

“Princess,” he says, placing the wig on Leah and bowing his head. She giggles, running off to inspect the go-karts. I grab the Yoshi head out of his hands.

“Hey!” Jason shouts, reaching for it.

“Sorry, I just can’t pull off the mushroom look,” I say.

He sighs and smiles, plopping the Toad hat on his head. “Oh, and I can?” He catches a glimpse of himself in a nearby window. “Actually… I look awesome,” he says, shifting his head from side to side while adjusting his hat.

“Not even a giant rubber Toad can damage your ego,” I tease, swatting at his head. Jason runs for his go-kart. “Let’s see if the Kim sisters can catch me now!” he shouts as he slams his foot on the pedal.

Leah and I scramble into our kart, me strapping Leah into the seat in front of me. Just as I’m about to race after Jason, Leah rubs her stomach, turning her head to look at me with a grimace on her face. “Unni, I don’t feel so good.”

“Really?” I unbuckle my seat belt and lean forward to check on her, my forehead creasing in concern. “Should we stop and—”

Before I can finish my suggestion, Leah’s cheeks puff up and—oh my god, I know that look—she unloads a wave of rainbow-colored vomit all over my dress.

Her face has turned to a pale green, and I quickly pull her out of the kart and onto the sidewalk, ignoring the barely digested remnants of mac and cheese and french fries stuck to my skin. A passing stranger shoots us a sympathetic glance, and I imagine we must look like quite the pair: a girl in a Yoshi hat with a big blond wig in her arms, squatting on the streets of Tokyo with vomit on our clothes. What a sight.