Chapter 3: Family Matters

The week leading up to dinner at the Yakamura house was marked by Suki’s increasing anxiety and Brad’s determined calm.

“What if they hate me?” Suki asked for the tenth time as they sat in the library on Wednesday. She hadn’t touched her textbook in twenty minutes.

“They won’t hate you. You’re their daughter.”

“Not me. You.” Suki twisted her hands together. “What if they think you’re not serious? What if they think you’re just using me? What if—”

“Suki.” Brad closed his own book and took her hands, stilling their nervous movement. “I’m going to show them I’m serious. I’m going to be respectful and honest. And if they have doubts, I’ll answer their questions. Okay?”

“My father can be ... intense. He’ll probably interrogate you.”

“Good. Let him. I have nothing to hide.”

“And my mother...” Suki’s voice dropped. “She’ll probably say something embarrassing. About my weight, or about how lucky I am that you’re interested, or—”

“Then I’ll politely disagree and make it clear that I’m the lucky one.” Brad squeezed her hands. “I’ve got this. Trust me?”

Suki searched his face, then nodded slowly. “I trust you.”

It was the first time she’d said those words, and Brad felt their weight settle in his chest like a promise.

By Friday, Brad had done his research. He’d looked up proper etiquette for meeting a girlfriend’s parents in Japan, had asked his Japanese friends in the business program for advice, and had even video-called his own parents to get their thoughts.

“Bring a gift,” his mother had said. “Something thoughtful but not too expensive. And Brad? Be yourself. If Suki loves you—”

“We haven’t said that yet,” Brad interrupted quickly.

His mother had smiled knowingly. “If Suki cares about you, her parents will see why. Just be the young man we raised.”

Brad had also consulted with Professor Watanabe, the elderly economics professor whom Suki always helped with his books. When Brad had mentioned he was meeting his girlfriend’s parents, Watanabe-sensei had lit up.

“Yakamura-san! A sweet girl, very kind. Her parents run an accounting firm, yes?” At Brad’s nod, the professor had continued. “They are traditional but reasonable people. Bring omiyage—a gift—perhaps something from your home country? And be prepared to discuss your intentions. Japanese parents take their daughters’ futures very seriously.”

So Brad had gone shopping. He found a beautiful box of California wines—nothing too expensive, but quality—and a book about Silicon Valley that he thought Suki’s father might appreciate, given his business background. For her mother, he’d chosen a delicate set of tea cups from a shop Emma had recommended online.

Saturday night, he laid out his clothes: dress pants, a button-down shirt, a tie. Nothing too formal, but respectful. He wanted to look like someone who took this seriously.

Emma had video-called him that evening, demanding to see his outfit.

“You look like you’re going to a job interview,” she’d teased.

“I kind of am. Interviewing for the position of ‘guy worthy of dating their daughter.’”

Emma’s expression had softened. “Brad, you’re going to do great. Just be honest. Tell them how you feel about her.”

“What if it’s too soon? We’ve only been dating for a month.”

“When you know, you know.” Emma had smiled. “And big brother? I can tell you know.”

Now, standing outside the Yakamura house on Sunday evening at precisely six o’clock, Brad took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Suki answered almost immediately, like she’d been waiting by the door. She looked beautiful in a soft pink blouse and dark skirt, her hair pulled back in a clip. But her eyes were wide with nervousness.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.” Brad smiled, hoping it was reassuring. “You look great.”

“You too. Very handsome.” She bit her lip. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Suki led him inside, and Brad slipped off his shoes in the genkan, placing them neatly beside the row of slippers. The house was modest but well-kept, with traditional touches mixed with modern furnishings. Family photos lined the hallway—Suki as a chubby-cheeked child, Suki in a school uniform, Suki at what looked like a graduation ceremony.

“Okaa-san, Otou-san,” Suki called out. “Brad is here.”

Her parents emerged from what Brad assumed was the living room. Suki’s mother was small and elegant, her hair neatly styled, wearing a traditional house dress. Her father was stocky and stern-looking, with graying hair and sharp eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.

Brad bowed deeply. “Hajimemashite. Watashi wa Brad Jamison desu. Kyou wa o-jikan o itadaki, arigatou gozaimasu.” Thank you for having me today.

Suki’s father blinked, clearly surprised by Brad’s formal Japanese. Her mother’s face broke into a warm smile.

“Irasshaimase!” Mrs. Yakamura said. “Please, come in. Your Japanese is very good!”

“Thank you. I’ve been studying for several years.” Brad held out the gift bag. “Tsumaranai mono desu ga...” It’s nothing much, but...

Mr. Yakamura took the bag with a small nod of approval. The humility phrase, the formal bow, the proper gift-giving—Brad had clearly done his homework.

They moved into the living room, and Brad noticed how Suki stayed close to his side, her hand occasionally brushing against his like she needed the reassurance of his presence.

Mrs. Yakamura served tea while her husband opened the gifts. Brad watched his expression carefully as he examined the wine bottles and the book.

“California wines,” Mr. Yakamura said, his English accented but clear. “You are from California?”

“Yes, sir. San Jose. My parents work in tech.”

“And you are studying at Osaka University?”

“Yes, sir. International business, with a focus on Asian markets.”

Mr. Yakamura set down the gifts and fixed Brad with a penetrating stare. “How long have you been seeing my daughter?”

“About a month, sir.”

“One month.” The skepticism in his voice was clear. “Suki says you are serious about her. What does ‘serious’ mean to a twenty-one-year-old American boy?”

“Otou-san,” Suki protested softly, but her father held up a hand.

Brad met his gaze steadily. “With respect, sir, I understand your skepticism. I’m young, and I’m foreign, and we haven’t been dating long. But I can tell you that I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“My daughter tells me you witnessed her being bullied on campus. That you intervened.” Mr. Yakamura’s expression was unreadable. “Is that how this started? You felt sorry for her?”

“Otou-san!” Suki’s voice was mortified, but Brad gently touched her hand—a subtle gesture that said I’ve got this.

“No, sir. I didn’t feel sorry for her. I felt angry—angry that people were treating someone kind and gentle and intelligent like she was somehow less than them. I’d noticed Suki around campus before that day. I’d wanted to talk to her but didn’t know how. When I saw what happened...” Brad’s jaw tightened at the memory. “I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“But you could have helped her and walked away,” Mrs. Yakamura said gently. “Why pursue more?”

This was it. The real question underneath all the others.

Brad looked at Suki, who was staring at her hands in her lap, her face flushed. Then he looked back at her parents.

“Because when I look at your daughter, I see someone extraordinary. She’s brilliant—she has the highest grades in our accounting class. She’s kind—I’ve watched her help elderly professors, hold doors for strangers, thank people who don’t expect it. She has the gentlest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.” Brad’s voice was firm, clear. “And yes, I think she’s beautiful. By American standards, by any reasonable standards, she’s a lovely young woman. The fact that Japanese society has made her feel otherwise is not a reflection of her worth. It’s a reflection of impossible standards.”