Ana sits in the subway car, her arms wrapped around her torso, breathing fast.

Like most of Lucas's plans, Simone is privately doubtful that this one will survive first contact with reality.

Not that she says that out loud. It would be rude to Lucas and mean to Ana and Simone might not be able to believe in Lucas's plans but she tries not to be mean about it. But she thinks it.

"You'll do great. Everyone at Mr. Parker's is going to love you."

"How do you know?"

"Of course they are. How could anyone not love you?"

Ana does not find this terribly reassuring.

"Lucas, you aren't helping." 

"I'm just telling the truth."

"I know it's important," Ana says, "I know I need to impress people, I just--"

She doesn't finish it with 'I just want to sing.'

"Well, regardless of whether it's true, it's not helping.

And Ana, it's not that important, you don't need to do a perfect job of being a party guest. Even if you mess it up you'll be fine."

This is not, strictly speaking, true, but it's infinitely more helpful than Lucas's opinion that everyone is paying lots of attention to Ana and how great she is at all times.

"What if I say something awful? Or just spend the entire time with my back to the wall."

"Then it'll be a funny story you can tell later, or nobody will notice because they'll be spending their time and attention actually being at the party, respectively."

"I guess," she says. "They're all going to be watching me."

"Frankly they're probably not. They'll be more focused on Mr. Parker and his art."

With that, they arrive at their stop.

Mr. Parker's apartment is not far at all from the subway station.
 
Mr. Parker greets them at the door. He wears a kimono of gold brocade, like a high-class housecoat. A long pipe of Chinese design is in his hand, with an odd smell around it-- the scent of opium.

"Miss Laurent, Mr. Reston, Miss Konrad. Lovely to see you all."

When she gets to the door Simone goes from straight-faced to smiling like she'd turn on an electric light. "Mr. Parker. Lovely to be here."

"Well, come in."

Mr. Parker's apartment is full of paintings, sculptures, and works of art from around the world, although it’s dominated by pieces from the Far East: Chinese porcelain vases, Japanese swords and paintings, fabulously colorful furnishings made with Indian fabrics. The most impressive is his collection of masks.

There are two dozen people at the party: artists, musicians, trade agents, arts and antiquities dealers. Most drink illicit champagne from crystal glasses, while some fill long-stemmed Japanese pipes with what appears at first to be tobacco from a large red-lacquered bowl on one of the side tables. Among the guests Simone recognizes are Professor Aarons, a Sinologist from Miskatonic University who's on leave here to study some artifacts held at Columbia; Mr. Sano, a wealthy Japanese businessman; and Emily Webster, Ana's agent.

Simone will partake of the champagne but not the opium; she spends a few minutes looking at art and keeping an eye on the party as a whole before she joins a conversation.

In the sweet mist of opium smoke and the dim light from the covered lampshades, the masks’ contours seem slightly blurred. Wood, stone, paper, porcelain, clay-- all have distinctive faces with empty, staring eyeholes, be they old men with long beards and deep wrinkles, pale-faced Asian beauties, chubby-cheeked children, horned demons, or severe-looking vengeful gods. There are Venetian masks with perfectly symmetrical, gilt embellished features; mournful death masks from Greece; long-faced African idols; Chinese opera masks splashed with streaks of bright colors (symbolizing the traits and values of the characters who wear them); Japanese Kabuki and Noh masks, with their enigmatic smiles and blackened teeth; Siamese Khon masks with their elaborate golden crowns; and bird-like theatrical masks from Ceylon.

They're beautiful, all of them. But she catches herself shivering, a little, at the staring eyes, and then turns away from the masks and towards-- she's not sure what. What she's turning away from is more important.

Mr. Parker is watching her.

"Which of them do you like best?"

"...that one," she says, and nods to a Venetian mask in brilliant blue-green.

"Hm," he says. "Perhaps you'll get to wear it someday."

"......perhaps."

(There are at least several underlayers to this conversation, and Simone does not enjoy not knowing what they are.)

She turns to the nearest group of people she sees, barely registering who's in it.

The nearest group of people is Mr. Sano having a political argument with an antiquities dealer. He does not seem to be having a good time.

"The situation in Manchuria is complicated," Mr. Sano says. "We were attacked--"

"Self-defense is one thing. This is an invasion," the man he's arguing with says.

"As a loyal subject of the Emperor--"

Mr. Parker had followed her into the conversation.

"I don't think it's complicated at all," Mr. Parker says quietly. "You wanted to invade China and you invented an excuse so you could get away with it. Which you will, because no one in the East can stand up to Japan and no one in the West cares about chinks."

not only did her escape fail she can't leave this quickly after entering the conversation it would be noticeable

Mr. Sano bows. "I thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Parker," he says with an impressive lack of sarcasm.

That is indeed impressive. And, better, it's an out.

"Hello, Mr. Sano," and she smiles again, arranges herself into being friendly and charming, "I believe we were acquainted a few weeks ago?"

"Indeed," Mr. Sano says. "I very much enjoyed your performance last week, Miss Laurent. I've appreciated seeing the birthplace of jazz during this trip to New York City."

His English is flawless without a trace of an accent.

Smile smile smile. "How has the city been finding you? --I've lived here my whole life, I'm always curious what it looks like to visitors."

"The number of different languages you hear on the street here is extraordinary. I grew up in Okinawa, I must have been eight or nine when I first saw someone who wasn't Japanese."

"I can't even imagine." Are they on a different topic now? "Although I don't have as many languages as some people here, of course, just Chinese and English."

"And many different kinds of food! My job allows me to travel the world but in New York City you can travel the world simply by walking down the street. What about you, Miss Laurent? Do you travel?"

"I don't. I wish I could, but, well, like you said, it isn't as though I'll run out of things to see here."

"Perhaps someday you'll be able to go on tour. We would most certainly welcome an artist of your caliber in Japan."

Smile. "You're too kind."

On the other side of the room, Emily Webster has gathered a circle of partygoers (almost exclusively men) around Anna, who is talking about art and philosophy with a light tone and rippling laughter. Lucas is by her side. Ana's laughter is forced and her jollity is an act to hide her anxiety about Monday's performance.

Well, at least she's managing the networking fine.

And then a strange woman bursts into the room, her eyes feverish, her hair disheveled, her clothes caked with dirt. She pulls a long knife from her waistband and dashes at Mr. Parker, screaming “it’s speaking to me! It won’t stop speaking to me!”

Ahahahahaha what.

Mr. Sano looks completely unsurprised by this turn of events, as if it's exactly what he expected to have happen. He also looks very tired.

That-- doesn't make any sense--

whatever it doesn't matter she will consider it after she is well away from anywhere that there is or might be a knife.

A guest takes on the woman and is slashed with the knife; there's a nasty-looking cut on his arm.

That is very unfortunate for him. It doesn't make Simone any more inclined to be anywhere but out of the way.

Distracted, the woman screams about the terrible voices in her head while waving her bloody blade at anyone who comes near her.

Mr. Parker steps in. He says something to the bewildered, sobbing woman; Simone can't catch what it is, but his tone is calm and firm. The woman's fingers tremble and she drops the knife on the carpet. He puts her arm around her shoulders and leads her to the bedroom.

"I'll just be a moment," he says over his shoulder. "Carry on without me!"

He very clearly doesn’t care about her welfare and is mostly intent on getting her out of the way of his guests.

"This," Mr. Sano says calmly, "is why I don't smoke opium."

"...a very sensible decision."

(Does she call him on his lack of surprise, or not.)

"I'm glad you agree, Miss Laurent. I understand it is not a commonly held belief in your field."

Mr. Parker returns. "She's just going to sleep it off," he says. He casually picks up the knife and places it on a side table before recirculating around his guests.

"It isn't." She blinks, and then turns away from where she'd been tracking Parker like she'd watch a venomous snake. "But I prefer to keep a clear head."

"So do I. --But let's not continue discussing this unpleasantness. I have some questions about your performance." And Sano is going to ask some surprisingly insightful questions about jazz.

She can answer his surprisingly insightful questions about jazz!

Now that Parker isn't watching her and there's no immediate crisis, she can recenter; Sano, who continues to be steadily calm, helps. It's only a few minutes until she's able to stop pretending to be unshaken and instead just have it be truth.

Mr. Parker has taken Lucas aside, where no one in the party can hear him.

...or maybe she can't.

Can she still see Ana, at least?

Ana's still surrounded by her circle of admirers.

Well that's good at least.

Simone excuses herself from the conversation with Mr. Sano as seamlessly as she can, and makes her way towards Parker and Lucas. Not interrupting them, but closer.

Parker spots her and his eyes widen.

He takes Lucas by the shoulder and invites him into his study-- with a locked door.

Augh.

Okay. Nothing she can do about that. Instead she finds someone else to talk to-- Professor Aarons, maybe-- and keeps an eye on the door. 

Professor Aarons has taken some opium and this apparently makes him want to babble about the Tang dynasty regardless of whether anyone he's around knows or cares what the Tang dynasty is.

Lucas emerges five or ten minutes later. His anxiety has been replaced with nervous excitement.

Parker says, in a loud voice, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm done for the evening. Shoo. I need my rest."

Simone is not at all sure how she feels about that change in mood but at least they can leave.

When she and Lucas and Ana get back to the flat the three of them share, she asks Lucas what Parker said to him, not really expecting an useful answer.

"He says he knows something that's going to help Ana. I can't tell you the details."

Is there any way to say 'this is scaring me' that won't make her sound like either an idiot jumping at shadows or a vindictive bitch who just doesn't want Ana to succeed for its own sake?

....there kind of isn't.

(And of course she isn't convinced that she's not jumping at shadows. Parker scared her, but-- not for reasons, really.)

".........alright, then," she says instead.

The next morning, Simone is awoken by a knock on the door.

Ugh. Okay fine she'll get up about it. "Hello, who is it?" 

"Package for Lucas Reston, ma'am," a scrawny-looking deliveryboy says. The delivery boy looks shaken.

"He's out right now, I'll take it."

"All right," the deliveryboy says and hands over the package.

It's brown paper wrapped in twine.

She takes the package back to her room. Gets dressed properly. And then just... looks at it.

There's a wooden box tied with red silk ribbon, with several logograms written in black ink with a pencil-written addition in English. The English says "the parcel from China"; the Chinese she has trouble puzzling out, but seems to say "a prop," "the city of Dalian", and "Manchukuo." The box is about the size of a human face.

And it's about the size of a human face.

She doesn't have much actual reason to believe it's one of the masks. And she doesn't have any actual reason to believe it'll do any harm, even if it is. Certainly not enough reason to steal Lucas's mail about it. Whether or not she found Parker unsettling in the opium mist of the party last night has no bearing on whether or not he's trying to hurt anyone in her house, and why would he want that?

...but nonetheless she takes the box and puts it in her wardrobe, underneath a pile of shirts.

There's a knock on her door.

She answers it.

"Did a package come for me this morning?" He still sounds nervous-excited. "It's from Mr. Parker."

"I don't think so. Why, what's in it?"

"It's the thing that Mr. Parker said would help Ana."

"That isn't going to help me identify a package, Lucas."

"Well, there aren't that many packages that come to our house. If it's a package, and it's addressed to me, give it to me. Without it, Ana's stage fright is going to ruin the chance of a lifetime."

"...I wasn't intending not to, Lucas, I don't make a habit of stealing your mail."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you of being a thief, I'm just-- worried. What happens if it doesn't get here in time?"

Airy smile. "Not knowing what it is, I'm afraid I can't say."

"I guess. Just. Keep an eye out for it, okay?"

Lucas leaves.

Well. If Simone didn't feel like a vindictive bitch who was ruining her friend's chances of success for no particular reason before, she certainly does now.

This is silly. This is stupid. She's being stupid. She has no reason to believe that anything bad is going to happen. Just a woman high on opium and her own nerves. Or, frankly, just that she's annoyed with Lucas and Ana and looking for reasons to be right.

Next time Lucas is out of the house again, she takes the package out of her wardrobe and puts it on the kitchen table for him.

When he returns, he snatches the package and takes it to his room.

He's very clearly on edge.

Ugh ugh ugh. Now she's worried about it after all.

Or maybe she's just looking for an excuse to be worried, because she's annoyed with Ana, because she's annoyed with Lucas, because Lucas thinks the world revolves around Ana's auditions, because Ana is too shy to be anything but a nice girl and you can hear the difference in the way Lucas talks to them, because Ana can't work herself up to do anything about her problems except look around for someone else to save her.

Or maybe something is actually wrong, and she just made the wrong choice, and there's going to be fallout and soon.

Or maybe she's just being stupid! She can't tell!

After about half an hour of pacing she finds a phone book and calls Sano.

"Hello. This is Mr. Sano's office," his secretary says. 

"Hello. This is Simone Laurent speaking; is Mr. Sano busy?"

"Yes, he's bus--" The sound of rustling papers and a voice in the background. "Uh. Sorry, ma'am, yes, I will put you through."

"Miss Laurent!" Mr. Sano sounds warm and delighted to hear from her.

Wow, that's not worrying at all.

"Mr. Sano," she agrees. "Good morning."

"To what do I owe the pleasure? I understand that conventionally on Sundays one either goes to church or sleeps in."

Tiny, fake laugh. "I'm unusual in that regard. --I'm sorry, I know it isn't the most pleasant of topics, but I was.... concerned about the woman at the party."

"It was certainly a disturbing series of events," Mr. Sano agrees. "But I'm confused why you're calling me, Miss Laurent. I deal in antiquities. As we discussed, I do not smoke opium myself."

"No, but-- I was watching when she came in. You didn't look surprised."

A moment's hesitation, one you might barely even notice. "Mr. Parker and I have shared our circles for many years. After a while, you grow accustomed to his-- patterns." He seems to be telling the truth. "Those who spend time around him have a certain, mm, way of behavior."

"...okay. Well, I suppose that brings me to the other thing, then."

Breath. "He pulled Lucas-- my housemate-- aside during the party, and Lucas has been acting odd since. Apparently Mr. Parker promised him something, something that could help Ana-- our other housemate, she's very shy-- with her career. Lucas has been very evasive about what exactly this thing is. And-- it's worrying me."

"It should. Mr. Parker is an aficionado of certain... unusual drugs and other items. He can handle them, perhaps. Those around him cannot."

She bites her lip for a moment, two, and then lets go. "...And Lucas got a package this morning. From Mr. Parker. It's about the right size to be a mask."

A beat.

"...I have been... commissioned to obtain a certain mask for a private client. A Noh mask, one of the masterpieces of Japanese theater. It is extraordinarily valuable, mostly because of the legends around it. They say the one who wears it may be able to perform like the gods themselves. Of course these are all-- simply legends. But Mr. Parker believes in the occult. And a mask may... trap the fumes of certain drugs close to the face, if one knows how to dose them, giving you a much higher amount of them than you otherwise would and for a longer time. I fear something dreadful may happen to your friend."

It's such a beautiful line of bullshit that for a second she almost believes it.

"...can you be more specific about what you think might happen, please?"

"Too much ingestion of Mr. Parker's drugs can lead to behavior like that of the woman last night-- voices, threatening people with knives."

(This is true, or true-ish.)

"Mr. Sano," she says, and lets herself sound shaky and scared and small, "he lives in my house. For you this may be a matter of professional reputation, but for me it's a matter of my safety. Please tell me the truth."

"... you really do remind me of him," he says, mostly to himself.

 "Come to my office. This is not a conversation we should have over the phone."

"...okay. I can be there in twenty minutes."

And she is.

Mr. Sano bows and makes pleasant small talk and gives her a cup of tea.

She bows back and takes the tea and engages in the pleasant small talk mostly on autopilot.

Then he takes up a knife and slices open his hand.

Before her eyes, Mr. Sano's hand heals. The cut disappears and his hand is as unblemished as if he had not cut it at all.

Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck

"I--"

"Magic is real. Magic is very, very, very dangerous. Certain people, such as me, specialize in... finding and disposing of magical artifacts before they can cause harm. Certain people, such as Mr. Parker, choose to instead try to... use it. And they cause great harm to themselves and others."

This has implications. This has a lot of implications. Simone is not thinking of most of them, because she's busy staring at Mr. Sano's perfectly, pristinely bloodless hand, which not thirty seconds ago he stabbed.

"Oh."

"I believe Mr. Parker has given your friend a mask which grants the wearer their heart's desire. I knew about the woman because I was tracking her. She was the last wearer."

"Oh," she says again. "Do-- you know what happened to her? After?"

"I hired a street kid to watch Mr. Parker's apartment but as of his last report he hasn't seen the woman leave."

She suppresses the urge to swear.

"So-- you say their heart's desire, do you know how that works, does it just-- know--"

"The texts are cryptic. It... doesn't trick you that way. It gives you the thing you want most. The cost is everything else."

Nodnod.

"That. Makes sense. It's just-- I know what they'd wish for, I don't know if it's really what they want most-- Ana would wish to not be so shy, Lucas would wish for her to love him, or to become someone she'd love, he's-- a romantic, he thinks it's the most important thing in the world-- I'm not--"

(what is she doing, when did she let herself get like this-- get back in control, simone, this isn't helpful--)

Mr. Sano pours her another cup of tea. "I don't know what they'll end up getting and I very much hope we don't find out."

"Another sensible choice." She takes the tea and wipes at her eyes. "You seem to make a number of those."

"I try, Miss Laurent. Please, can you get me that mask? It may be the most important thing you do in your life."

"I can certainly try.

...and thank you."

"You're welcome. --I would very much prefer you not be in danger. Shall I have my driver take you home?"

When she smiles back it's the real one, not the dazzling one. "Yes, please."

He escorts her to the door. "You make quite sensible decisions yourself."

"I do try."

When she returns home, Ana is practicing her scales in the living room.

Lucas is in his room with the door locked.

She doesn't interrupt Ana-- contemplates knocking on the door-- sits down in the living room and waits for Ana to be done.

Lucas remains, silent, in his room, for as long as Simone waits.

When Ana's done, Simone pulls her aside and says "Is it just me, or has Lucas been... kind of weird lately."

"He hasn't spoken to me all day? I thought maybe he was mad at me. Maybe I did something wrong at the party."

God. "No, he's been weird to me too, I don't think it was you at all.

--also you sounded really good just now."

She blushes. "Thank you! I think the secret ingredient is that I didn't know you were there. --What do you think is wrong with Lucas? Is his father after him about the law firm again?"

"No idea," she says, lyingly. "Could be? Anyway, thank you for confirming it isn't just me, I should probably go try talking to him."

"That sounds good! You're way better at talking to him than I am."

That's mostly because Simone is better at talking in full generality than Ana is (and because Lucas actually respects Ana which means he gets tongue-tied around her) but she's not going to say that. She smiles at Ana and then turns and knocks on Lucas's door.

"I'm busy!"

"With what?"

"Helping Ana!"

Ana looks terrified at this prospect.

"Well, let me in so I can help you help Ana."

"I'm handling it!"

"Last time you said you had a plan that you were definitely handling and I wasn't allowed to know what the plan was, it ended with a car being driven into the Hudson River. Let me in."

"No, leave me alone. Everything's fine."

"The more you say that the less I believe it's true!" 

Ugh.

"Ana, tell him to let me in, he listens to you."

Ana looks very skeptical but says, "Lucas, please let her in."

"Fine."

The door swings open.

Across his desk is spread a paper covered with yet more Chinese characters, a short letter, and a mask made of white porcelain wrapped in violet silk.

The mask has an oval face, half-closed eyes, and very thin lips, which are half-open, revealing fine black teeth. It is hard to determine if the face is male or female.

He closes the door.

Great! Great. Simone enters the door before he can close it.

"Lucas, what the hell."

"Mr. Parker gave me the mask to help Ana with her audition."

"Yes, I can see that. So that's your big plan? A mask you got from a drug addict at a party is going to somehow get Ana over her stage fright?"

"Yes."

"And how, exactly, do you think that's going to work."

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio."

"So it's a magic mask you got from a drug addict at a party." (It's really something how contemptuous she can sound of an idea she knows full well is true.)

She points at the paper. "Do you even know what that says?"

"Mr. Parker said that it's an assurance of its authenticity. --It is real, I'll show you."

"No you will not." She takes the paper-- and the mask for good measure-- off the table. (She can read Chinese, Lucas can't, this whole concept is so blatantly stupid, setting aside that she knows it's true--)

He grabs the mask from her.

She grabs it right back.

"That's mine!"

"Lucas, this says the mask was bought from a retailer in Hong Kong. Parker was lying to you."

(She hasn't actually read it and is pretty sure that's not what it says but he can't contradict her now can he.)

"Well, if he's lying to me, it doesn't matter if I put on the mask, does it?"

"Yes, it does, because Parker is an opium dealer who regularly gets attacked by his addicts and I don't want you putting things he gives you near your face."

"I guess." Lucas shrinks. "I really thought..."

"Yeah. I know you did." Mask back in the box, with the paper; box in Simone's hands. (She's not going to think about how Lucas really, truly believes in things, not right now, not when it almost got him killed.) "And it's really sweet how much you wanted to help Ana. But you can't keep believing in miracle cures from random people you meet, Lucas, this is going to get you in real trouble one of these days."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to figure out how to get rid of it such that it won't hurt anyone if it's full of poisoned opium."

"Right. That. Makes sense. Can you-- tell Ana I did something smarter than what I did?"

"Yes. Of course."

And then she is going to put the box in her purse and walk back to Mr. Sano's office.

On the way there, she wonders, almost idly, what her heart's desire is.

.......she already knows what her heart's desire is.

(She'd told Sano that she wasn't a romantic. And that's true. She isn't. But-- she wanted to be, she tried to be, before she decided she was broken and there was no use dwelling on it since it wasn't going to change.

Simone knows what she wants. She wants to love someone, not just like them, really truly love them, and she wants to be the kind of person who gets to be loved.)

It's not any sort of pressure or control. Just... the knowledge that the mask is there, in her bag, and she could have her heart's desire, even for a little bit. And if she gave it away she could never have it again.

There's no use dwelling on it, she had told herself years ago. It can't be changed. Focus on the things you can actually do something about.

But now it can be changed. She could just-- put the mask on--

She stops. She presses her hands to her face. She keeps walking again, faster this time.

It wouldn't be real, she says to herself, fiercely. But it would be. The mask doesn't trap you that way, Sano had said, it really does give you what you want. The cost is everything else.

What would Simone give up to be the sort of person who could love?

Walking faster still, now. I would very much prefer you not be in danger, Mr. Sano had said, and he had smiled at her, and when she smiled back it had been real. You make quite sensible decisions yourself.

She's hyperventilating when she makes it to the door of his office, purse still closed, box untouched.

But she makes it there.

"Do you have the mask, Miss Laurent?"

"Yes." She pulls it out of her bag with shaking hands and puts it on the desk. Please please please show me I was right to trust you, she doesn't say.

He visibly shudders. "Awful thing."

"Yes. It is." Deep, shuddery breath. "He hadn't put it on. I told him Parker had been lying to him-- I read Chinese, Lucas doesn't, I claimed the papers said it had been purchased in Hong Kong and he couldn't contradict me-- everyone's okay."

Sad smile. "It is... not often that that's true at the end of one of my misadventures. I will send it with a trained courier to a collector who specializes in keeping this sort of... artifact... secure."

She nods again. "Okay. Okay, that's... good."

Pause.

"Mr. Sano? You can call me Simone. If you want."

"You may call me Ichiro. I hope I'll see you again while I'm in New York?"

(It's done, everyone's okay-- she's still a little shaky.)

"I'm singing at the Catfish Orpheus on Friday, if you're free."

"That would be wonderful."

He bows and very politely kisses the back of her hand.

Her face doesn't heat up. She's still herself. But when she smiles, it's the real one again. "Then I'll see you then."

The next day, at the audition, Ana doesn't look out at the crowd. Instead, she closes her eyes, and she sings to an audience of only herself. Her voice is the most beautiful that Simone has ever heard it.

She is hired to travel Europe. She is acclaimed. She still sings with her eyes closed. But when you're acclaimed, singing with your eyes closed is a quirk, and refusing to go to parties means you're a recluse who only concentrates on her art.

Lucas writes for a while, but love is different to maintain by intercontinental letter. He meets someone at a party his father hosts, and he won't shut up to Simone about how wonderful she is. A year later they are married, and a year after that they have a child, and you can't support a family as a mediocre artist. He still comes to see Simone perform sometimes. He seems happy enough.

Mr. Parker continues to have disturbing interruptions at his parties.

Mr. Sano visits New York City regularly, selling antiques both ordinary and special. When he visits, he attends Simone's performances, sends her flowers, and takes her out to the best restaurants and the most exclusive speakeasies. (He doesn't drink.) They become lovers, after a while. He seems to care for her.

Simone learns Japanese. She doesn't marry. She visits Japan with Ichiro, a few times; she doesn't stay. It's not a bad life, performing and living with friends.

Twenty years later, she gets a telegram that says Goodbye, I love you two days before the attack on Pearl Harbor.

After the war begins, she hears rumors of monsters in the Japanese army, giants who can bend tank guns with their hands and who bounce bullets from their chests. It's probably tall tales told by soldiers, she thinks.

Besides, even if it were real, it has absolutely nothing at all to do with her.