Kira's PoV:

Denise and I stayed in Starbuck's for the greatest majority of the night getting to know each other. I couldn't believe how much we had in common: we both listened to 12 Girls Band, inhale pumpkin cream cheese muffins, shopped at Tiffany's over the weekend, and that's just to begin with. How in the world could my mother keep Denise a secret for so long?

"How are things at work?" I asked.

"I assigned all of the economics students a project on how to manage families on fixed budgets," she replied. "Some were upper class, some were middle class, and the remaining were lower class."

"I think that's a great idea. They need to learn about how to take care of someone else other than themselves."

"I agree." Denise took a bite out of her muffin, sipped her cappuccino, and asked, "How are things going with you?"

"I can't give you a name, but my newest case involves a child molester. I can't go into too much detail about what he's in trouble for because of confidentiality. He used to be a gym teacher."

"Why used to? Parents were complaining about him?"

"Yes, but that's as far as I'll go with details." I reached for another muffin and sipped my tea.

"Okay," Denise responded. "Do you think he's guilty?"

"This may sound could, but I don't really care whether he's innocent or not as long as I win this case. However, there's more evidence against him than anything, so it doesn't look too good for him. I haven't represented a e case in almost two years, so this can either make or break my career." After sharing my newest source of stress, a wash of relief came upon me.

Denise reached over and patted my hand. "You'll get through it. I don't think you should stress about it too much. You've won all your cases before, right? You can do it again. Have a little faith in yourself."

I smiled and thanked her.

"You're welcome, Kira." When Denise smiled back at me, I realized how much it resembled mine. Her cheekbones were also more pronounced in the same way mine would become. That made what little sliver of doubt I had about us being related disappear.

"Do you think I'll be ready for tomorrow?" I asked. "About the dinner, I mean."

"You don't have to come if you don't want too," Denise assured me.

"No, I want to go. I need to see my father."

"You had a change of heart?"

"Yeah. I was hesitant, but I'm absolutely sure I want to do this now. I'm tired of my mother trying to keep me away from my father! She's done this ever since I was little, and she's still trying to do that to me now. I'm an independent woman who is supporting herself and thinking for herself now. If I want to see my father, I will, and I don't care about her possibly disowning me."

The last part of my declaration made Denise's ears perk up. "Your own mother said she'll disown you if you so much as try to contact our father? That's so low! Even for someone like her!"

"My mom actually didn't say she'd disown me, but she might as well have said that from the way she constantly belittles my Japanese heritage."

"Wow!" Denise mouthed. "I just can't fathom the idea of someone in your family downsizing something that's a part of you. You are a Japanese woman whether your mother like it or not. Society is also going to label you as such because of who your father is. If your mother really loved you, she would be opening the door for you to explore that side of your heritage."

"You know, Denise," I started, "it's been really stressful living with her the greatest majority of my life. Ever since I was little, Mom wouldn't even let me look at anything that remotely reminded her of my dad. I remember, when I was eight, walking through this store when I saw this gorgeous kimono in the window one time. It was pink and it had blue and purple flowers on it. That was the last of its kind in the store, and I was begging my mother to get it for me. She told me no and gave me this blue dress that had lace and bows. It was a cute dress, but it was nowhere near as pretty as the kimono I was eyeing. The paparazzi was around so Mom wanted to avoid making a scene. That was the only thing stopping her from yelling at me. Instead, she shoved the dress in my hand and pushed me along. When I looked back, another Japanese family was looking at the same kimono. I hollered and screamed when I saw the mother put it in her basket. I felt as if someone kicked me in the stomach. After that, I didn't even bother to speak to my mother for a week."

Denise placed her hand on mine to comfort me as I fought back tears as I continued.

"The next week," I said, "I asked her why she didn't buy the kimono for me. I'll never forget what she said next. Her exact words were, 'Because it didn't fit into the image I want you to look like. I want you to look like me as much as ethnically possible. Besides, isn't this dress pretty?' I told her yes. It wasn't a lie, but I still wanted that kimono. That whole experience fueled me to study about Japanese culture as much as I possibly could behind Mom's back. I successfully hid the books and chopsticks I bought with my allowance. I still have them to this day."

Denise's PoV:

From what Kira initially told me about her rough childhood, it sounded pretty bad. However, it never would have occurred to me, though, that her mother would essentially be a neo-Nazist. Depriving a child of their heritage is one of the worst things a parents can do to them. It's hard enough to grow up as a mixed child. That I know for a fact. But forcing them to conform to one side is way too heavy.

All I managed to get out was, "I feel so sorry for you." 

A tear rolled down Kira's face. I handed a napkin to my sister. She gladly took it and wiped her face.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that ordeal." I stayed silent as if thinking for the right words to say. Soon, I added, "It was pretty rough growing up on my side, too. Being half black and Japanese, I was deemed not black enough by black people, or not Japanese enough by the Japanese. It was like being trapped in the middle of a road, but neither side will let me cross over because they would be coming at me with their cars coming along running me out of the way. In second grade, we had to fill out these student surveys. When it came to race, the Asian kids would snicker if I put Asian, and the black kids would do the same if I selected black. It became such a hassle for me to the point when I would either put 'Other' or nothing at all. And don't even get me started on recess. That's when the real fun began."

Kira rolled her eyes and let out a soft sigh. "Tell me about it."

I drank the last of my cappuccino. "Being called a monster. Being the last one chosen during sports."

"Being stared at when Asian food becomes a topic, even though it's mainly about Chinese food."

"Being confused for other Asian groups."

"Are you Chinese?"

"Are you Korean?"

"How do you stay so skinny?"

"Is your hair real? Can I touch it?"

An awkward silence filled the air between us. To lighten the tension, I just started laughing because I didn't know what else to do. Pretty soon, Kira joined me in my laughter. For a good few minutes, we were cracking up until one of the employees informed us they were closing up the place.

All right," I said before the man left.

"You want to do this again some time?" Kira asked.

"Why not?" My sister and I exchanges smiles before rising from the table. We took our cups, threw them away, and walked through the double doors.

"See you tomorrow," Kira said. "I had a good time."

"See you." 

Just like that, we parted way. I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulder when I walked away. For so long, I had absolutely no one I could relate to. I had to become my own best friend most of the time because everyone thought of me as a freak for so long. Now, not only do I have a new best friend, but I also have a sister.

 How could my father never tell me about her?

___________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!! ☺☺☺♥♥♥