Ryuko had struggled to contain her excitement as the booth began to dispense her passport photo. She was going to get to see America. She would be the envy of all her old school friends.
——————
Ok so the implication with this one is that the men in the Stepford Men’s Association are so desperate to hold onto the status quo that they’ll take any measure possible to quash anything that could threaten it, which could also include kidnapping someone whose first language isn’t English and not allowing them to learn it beyond the basics. One thing I’ve also noticed is that white supremacists are fuckin stupid, waxing lyrical about the preservation of the white race and Western values while either having a partner who isn’t white or not even being white themselves??? And obviously a lot of my leftist distrust for law enforcement has pretty much seeped into the script, and the supplemental material that goes with it lmao. I have a very barebones understanding of Japanese and I admit I used Google Translate to write a lot of Ryuko’s dialogue, so I sincerely apologise for that :) at least I didn’t try to fuckin’ write it in kanji though right??
——————
Ryuko, The Student
When the knock comes at Mrs Buckley’s door, she freezes up instinctively. She’s not sure why.
She’s been sitting in the nursery, staring at her sleeping daughter, watching the gentle rise and fall of her tiny ribs as she breathes in and out softly. Frank hasn’t even looked at her once since she was born. He’s been holding out for a son, and he’ll try with his wife a million times until he gets one.
The swelling of her belly is proof of that.
Rising to her feet, Mrs Buckley heads to the front door and opens it. A girl stands on her doorstep, her hair bright red and smelling faintly of Kool-Aid, dressed as if she fell out of a donated clothes bin, her face lighting up with what looks like relief to see her.
“Oh, thank god you’re home,” she laughs breathlessly. “Can I come in?”
Mrs Buckley doesn’t speak much English. She doesn’t speak much in general. She nods politely and invites the woman inside with a smile.
Immediately, she beelines toward the sitting room, slamming some papers down on the coffee table. Anxiously, Mrs Buckley follows her in, taking a seat beside her on the couch. She catches a glance at one of the papers, and she swears she can see a face that looks like hers.
“I know we haven’t met,” the stranger says, “but I’ve seen you at Goodwives and I thought maybe I should introduce myself. I’m Rachel Martinez, and uh… I’ve got something pretty important to show you.”
Rachel looks over toward the piece of paper, and Mrs Buckley’s gaze follows. “You’re, uh… Sally Buckley, right?” she says, and Mrs Buckley nods. “At least that’s who everyone says you are. But I know something that’s gonna blow your mind the same way it did mine.” Taking a deep breath, she rests her hands on Mrs Buckley’s shoulders, angling her upper body to face her.
“Your name isn’t Sally. It’s Ryuko. Ryuko Takahashi.”
Mrs Buckley just stares back at Rachel, baffled. Surely she must have made some kind of mistake? She wants to open her mouth to speak, but the words would only come out in Japanese so it wouldn’t do much good. She folds her hands in her lap.
Rachel reaches over for the piece of paper and hands it to her. “See? Look, it’s all here,” she says. “Nobody outside this town has seen you since July 4th, 2022. Your parents said you were vacationing in New York, right? That’s where I’m from. A guy stole me and took me here. That must have happened to you too.”
A quick glance at the paper suddenly becomes a long gaze. Surely enough, the information is all there; Mrs Buckley struggles to read some of it, apart from the sections in the familiar hiragana and katakana, which she was forbidden to read a long time ago. The photograph of the girl who looks like her, looking straight ahead, long black hair falling down past her shoulders, the unmistakable white backdrop of a photobooth —
Ryuko had struggled to contain her excitement as the booth began to dispense her passport photo. She was going to get to see America. She would be the envy of all her old school friends.
She blinks once, and Officer Frank Buckley’s pretty young wife Sally is gone.
Ryuko Takahashi, the architecture student from Osaka, now sits in her place. Draws a shaky breath.
“Watashi wa dokodesu ka?1” she whispers.
Rachel, the girl still sitting beside her on the sofa, chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry, I don’t know much Japanese,” she admits. “I’ve watched some anime with my girlfriend before, but I don’t know if… uh…”
Tears well up in Ryuko’s eyes and threaten to spill down her cheeks. She looks at her hands, her shoes, her belly, then back at Rachel again.
“I… are you okay?” Rachel asks, carefully. “It does take a while to come back. I know it’s scary, but I’m with you, okay?”
Almost instinctively, Ryuko grasps frantically at Rachel’s shoulders. “TASUKETE!!!2” she cries. “TASUKETE!!!!2”
All the memories have flooded back at once before she has a chance to stop them. Standing in the middle of Times Square, staring up in awe at the Macy’s fireworks, snapping a couple of photographs on her phone. Switching to selfie mode, throwing up a peace sign with a grin, not even noticing the figure with the syringe behind her until it was too late. Waking up in a basement with an older man shining a flashlight in her eyes, telling her who she was over and over, the language barrier ensuring she couldn’t fight back. Watching her body on autopilot from inside a darkened theater, as it cooked and cleaned and shopped for groceries, staying soft, silent and sweet. Frank’s hands on her shoulders, keeping her pinned to the bed as he filled her with his seed, which grew steadily inside her over time and anchored her firmly to this awful unfamiliar place – the fright and confusion and pain of labour, Frank’s perverse excitement as she struggled to push out his child, turning to cold disappointment as the doctor confirmed she’d given him a daughter, her voice weak as she choked out the name ‘Hina-chan’… only for Frank to ignore her and half-heartedly christen the baby ‘Margaret’. The cycle repeating, looping, recursing. Cooking, cleaning, shopping, silence. Frank’s voice, Frank’s hands, Frank’s gaze, Frank’s glare. No way out.
No way out.
Her body is wracked with breathless sobs by the time Rachel rests her hands on Ryuko’s face, wiping away her tears with her thumb. “You’re still in America, Ryuko,” Rachel says, “you’re still in America. We’re in Stepford, Connecticut, and you’re not the only one they did this to, I promise. I’m gonna help you get out. You’re gonna get to go home, Ryuko.”
Ryuko stares back at Rachel in disbelief, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Arigato…3” she breathes. “Arigato gozaimasu…3”
Rachel smiles, almost sadly, then pulls Ryuko into a tight hug. Against all her instincts Ryuko allows herself to relax in the other girl’s arms, realising it’s been far too long since she was last shown any kind of genuine affection. She learned a long time ago to never expect it from Frank. Rachel strokes her hair gently, keeps her close for a long time, giving her a chance to savour the feel of her embrace.
“Where’s the guy who took you?” Rachel whispers.
Ryuko pulls back, almost reluctantly, then shuffles through whatever memories she has left. “Wakaranai,4” she replies, her voice still shaky. “Kare wa sukoshi mae ni satta.4”
For a while Rachel appears to be deep in thought. Then, thinking quickly, she takes the piece of paper from Ryuko’s hand and flips it over, scribbling something on the back. “Start packing your things,” Rachel says as she hands it back. “Anything you can. Grab your daughter too. Then I need you to go to this address.”
Mercifully, Rachel hasn’t written anything in English, or even Japanese. Instead she’s drawn a map leading to a train station, crude and basic, but concise enough for Ryuko to understand. She folds it up and places it in the pocket of her dress. “The other women will help you,” Rachel continues, “I’ll make sure of that. Good luck, Ryuko… you and Hina.”
With a gentle kiss to Ryuko’s forehead, Rachel takes her leave and disappears into the night, followed by the sound of screeching wheels.
Standing up carefully, supporting her belly with one hand, Ryuko heads up the stairs to the master bedroom. What Frank doesn’t know won’t hurt him, she decides. As far as she’s concerned, he’s as good as dead. At least that’s what Ryuko hopes.
——————
Rough translation:
1 Where am I?
2 HELP ME!!! HELP ME!!!!
3 Thank you… Thank you so much…
4 I don’t know. He left a while ago.
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