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CHAPTER THREE

AKIKO’S DREAM – THE BOARDWALK

Later that night, I woke covered in sweat, my blanket tangled around me. I kicked my legs, freeing myself, and sat up, heart pounding. For a few seconds, I couldn’t remember where I was. My gaze darted around the room until the familiar shadows of my bedroom anchored me. Safe. I was safe.

Beside me, Miki lay on her side, snoring softly. Not even an earthquake could wake that girl. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, and did what I always did after having that dream: I tried to decipher it.

Over the years, the dream evolved, each time revealing more, like a puzzle assembling itself. Lately, though, it had felt…different. As if it was trying to tell me something. For months now, I’d been waking at the same moment, right before it could go further. But tonight was different. Tonight, I saw more.

It always started the same way, at the fish market. I was a little girl, and I always wore the same blue dress, ribbons tied neatly in my hair. I wandered among the stalls, eyes wide with curiosity, keeping track of the seafood I’d tasted and the ones I hadn’t, until I realized I was lost.

I wasn’t lost in the sense that I didn’t know where I was. I knew the market like the back of my hand. But I was separated from my father. Panic set in as I ran up and down the rows of stalls, calling his name. He was nowhere to be seen.

I reached the edge of the market, breathless and scared. Had he left without me? My heart clenched at the thought. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. He was walking toward the pier.

“Papa!” I shouted, my voice high and frantic.

He didn’t hear me.

I ran after him as fast as my little legs could, but I couldn’t catch up no matter how hard I tried. He reached the end of the pier, where a small wooden shack sold bait and fishing supplies. The dock was old and rickety, its wooden planks worn thin in places, revealing slivers of the water below. And then he smiled one last time before jumping off the pier.

This was where the dream always ended and where I always woke.

But not tonight.

This time, he stood in front of the bait shop. He turned back and looked at me, waving at me to come to him.

“Papa!” I called again, willing my legs to move faster.

He didn’t wait. By the time I reached the shack, he was gone.

I skidded to a stop, my chest heaving. “Papa?” I called, my voice trembling.

I ran around to the back of the shack, convinced he was playing hide-and-seek. But there was no one there. I stood alone, listening to the creak of the wooden planks beneath my feet and the faint sound of waves crashing against the pier. And then I spotted him, face down in the water below.

And then I woke.

I lay there, the fragments of the dream swirling in my mind. What was my dream trying to tell me now?

Was my path of becoming a sushi chef a dead end? Or was the dream encouraging me not to end it like my father might have? Perhaps the dream wasn’t a nightmare at all.

Oddly enough, that thought brought a smile to my lips, easing the tension in my chest. If this was my father’s way of guiding me, encouraging me to do what he couldn’t, I would follow it. I closed my eyes, and sleep gently pulled me back under.