Took me all night and most of the day to try and figure out who this woman was. Three hours into my research and I started cursing Daisuke’s need for privacy. He only had one picture with the woman up on his page, dainty little thing, but excruciatingly hard to hunt down. No less than a dozen women with the name Misako were living in the greater Los Angeles area, and ten were under the age of thirty.

I had to hack into the immigration database to see which women came here from Japan, which only narrowed my list down to six. From there I had to look them up and hope a face would pop up with a search and any confirmation as to her identity. The search was beginning to prove futile, I was starting to lose all hope when one finally popped up in the DMV records. A twenty-one-year-old intern f...

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