Ba-chan
When I was in elementary, it was just me, my baa-chan, and my mom in a cramped, but comfortable apartment in Lttle Tokyo. Every morning, I'd wake to the sound of rice boiling in a pot, vegetables being diced for a lunch side dish, the shrill whistle of a kettle that was full of o-cha, and the quick, flustered steps of my mom who was about to be late for work. I'd linger on the futon for a bit before getting ready for breakfast. On weekdays when I didn't have school, baa-chan would take me down into the plaza for …