The Yakuza’s Nigerian bride

The first thing Amara Okafor noticed about Japan was how quiet everything seemed. Not silent—never silent. Tokyo was alive with trains, distant traffic, footsteps, conversations, and the occasional chime from a nearby shop. But there was an order to the noise that fascinated her. She stood outside the arrivals terminal at Haneda Airport, hugging her cream-colored coat around herself as a cool breeze lifted a few strands of her long, dark hair. Japan. She had actually made it. A smile slowly spread across her face. “Amara!” She turned just in time to see her best friend running toward her. “Chidi!” The two women collided in a tight embrace. Chidinma Okoye pulled back and held Amara by the shoulders. “Look at you! You finally came!” Amara laughed. “I told you I would.” “You said that six months ago.” “And now I'm here.” “Thank God.” Chidi grabbed one of her suitcases. “Come. Your Japanese adventure starts now.” Amara followed her toward the car, still staring around in fascination. She was twenty years old, freshly graduated from university in Nigeria, and had spent months convincing her parents that traveling to Japan wasn't some impulsive decision. Her mother had eventually agreed. Her father had taken longer. The condition was simple: she could spend time in Japan, experience the country, visit her best friend, and enjoy herself—but when she returned to Nigeria, she was expected to begin preparing for her master's degree. Amara had agreed. She had no intention of disappointing them. Besides, she wanted something else from the trip. Something she had never admitted to her parents. She wanted romance. Not the kind found in movies. Real love. The kind where two people chose each other completely. She had always been a hopeless romantic, though she tried not to advertise it. She wanted her first kiss to mean something. And when the time eventually came for her to give herself completely to a man, she wanted that man to be someone she genuinely loved and trusted. She wasn't ashamed of that decision. It was simply hers. “Why are you smiling like that?” Chidi asked as they drove away from the airport. “I'm happy.” “You're thinking about romance again.” Amara's eyes widened. “I wasn't!” “You absolutely were.” “I was thinking about Japan.” “Japan has men.” Amara burst out laughing. “Chidi!” “What? I'm only stating facts.” Amara shook her head, looking out the window. She was petite, barely five feet two inches tall, and everything about her seemed softer than the busy city around her. Her warm brown skin had a natural glow, and her large dark eyes seemed to take in everything at once. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulders, and the excitement in her expression made her look younger than twenty. But beneath her gentle appearance was a sharp mind. Amara had graduated near the top of her class. She was curious, disciplined, and surprisingly stubborn whenever she believed something mattered. Chidi knew this better than anyone. “You're going to love my house,” Chidi said. “I hope your husband likes me.” “He adores you already.” “Really?” “He keeps asking when my Nigerian best friend is arriving.” Amara smiled. Kenji Takahashi was Chidi's husband and a Japanese businessman. He came from a wealthy family, though Chidi had always been vague about exactly how wealthy they were. There was one thing Amara knew. Kenji had a large family. And apparently, they were having dinner together that evening. “You didn't tell me your family was coming,” Amara said. Chidi gave her an innocent smile. “Surprise.” “Chidi!” “You'll be fine.” “I haven't even unpacked!” “You look beautiful.” “That isn't the point.” Chidi laughed. The car continued through the glowing streets of Tokyo. Amara pressed her forehead lightly against the window. She had no idea that before the night was over, she would meet a man who would change everything she thought she knew about love. And she certainly had no idea that his name was already whispered in Tokyo with fear. Kindly like, vote, comment and share