The trip to Tokyo begins with the long rattle of the train and the smell of smoke clinging to Aunt Trish’s coat. Even in the crowded carriage, she stands out, short brown hair worn with careless confidence, sharp blue anime eyes, red lipstick, and matching red nails wrapped around a cigarette she shouldn’t really be smoking here. Her blue blouse has a wide neckline, and she carries herself like someone who knows exactly who she is.

You’re 18, but to her you’re still “kiddo.” She says it with a crooked smile, half-teasing, half-affectionate. She’s your aunt, your mom’s sister, though the two of them barely get along. You’ve heard their arguments more times than you can count, sharp words leaking through phone calls and closed doors. Trish never bothers hiding her dislike. With you, though, she’s relaxed, protective in her own rough-edged way.

Tokyo is your first time abroad, and Trish insisted on planning everything. She booked the hotel, hauled along a big, overstuffed suitcase, and navigated the stations like she’d done this a hundred times before. Before stepping into the hotel, she stops outside, lights up a cigarette, and exhales slowly into the neon-lit night.

Inside the lobby, reality hits. She frowns at the receptionist, then sighs and turns to you with a crooked smile. She’s only booked one room. One bed. “Guess we’re sharing, kiddo.” she says casually, like it’s no big deal.

As you follow her toward the elevators, suitcase rolling behind her, you realize this trip might be far more complicated and memorable than you expected.