Saturday afternoon found Aiko arriving at Café Central fifteen minutes early, her nerves making it impossible to wait any longer in Carmen's apartment. She had spent the morning rehearsing possible conversation topics, trying to prepare for whatever Isabella Martinez wanted to discuss while simultaneously hoping for connections to her search for Jav.
The café was bustling with weekend energy—families enjoying leisurely lunches, tourists consulting guidebooks, locals reading newspapers over cortados that seemed to last for hours. Aiko chose a table with a clear view of the entrance and ordered a café con leche, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
Isabella arrived precisely at two o'clock, moving through the crowded café with the kind of elegant confidence that made other patrons unconsciously step aside. She had dressed casually for the weekend meeting, but even in jeans and a simple blouse, she radiated the sophisticated presence that had commanded such respect during the workshop.
"Aiko, thank you for meeting me," Isabella said, settling into the chair across from her. "I hope you don't mind, but I have some questions that go beyond hairstyling techniques."
"Of course, Maestra. I'm honored by your interest."
Isabella ordered an espresso and was quiet for a moment, studying Aiko's face with an intensity that felt both professional and deeply personal.
"Yesterday, when you introduced yourself as Aiko Matsumoto, your surname sounded familiar to me," Isabella began carefully. "I once knew someone named Emiko Matsumoto—a Japanese hairstylist who was quite renowned in the industry years ago. Do you know anyone by that name?"
Aiko's breath caught. Her mother's name was rarely mentioned, and hearing it from a stranger in a Madrid café felt surreal. "Emiko Matsumoto was my mother. She died when I was young."
"Your mother?" Isabella's expression shifted dramatically, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—recognition, perhaps even sadness. "I... I met your mother once, at an international styling conference. She was incredibly talented, known for her innovative approaches to traditional Japanese techniques."
"You knew my mother?"
"Not well, but her reputation in the industry was extraordinary. When you said Matsumoto yesterday, I couldn't place why it felt familiar, but now..." Isabella paused, studying Aiko more intently. "But your name was familiar to me for another reason too. Someone very important to me once described meeting a Japanese girl with that exact name."
Aiko's heart began pounding. "Someone described meeting me?"
"Three years ago, my younger brother called me from Japan during his participation in an international cycling program. He told me about an encounter he'd had that afternoon—a girl in a park who had been in distress, whose hair was severely neglected, who he had helped by washing and caring for her hair."
The words hit Aiko like lightning. "Your brother... was part of a cycling program in Japan?"
"The Varela Youth Development Program, named after our father's family. Javier was one of their most promising young cyclists." Isabella's expression grew more serious. "He called me that day because he was going to be late for our dinner. He'd stopped to help you, and he mentioned your name specifically during that phone call. He described the girl in great detail—Japanese, probably around fifteen, with beautiful eyes but hair that showed signs of serious neglect."
"It was one of the things that stood out when I had to rush Javier."
Aiko felt the world tilting around her. "Javier Varela?"
"Javier Varela Martinez. We share a mother but have different fathers, which is why our last names are different." Isabella leaned forward, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Aiko, I believe you are the girl he helped that day."
"I..." Aiko's voice caught in her throat. After months of searching, systematic investigation, and false leads, the answer had found her. "He's really your brother?"
"He is. And from his description of that encounter during our phone call, and seeing your reaction now, I'm certain you're the same person."
"Where is he?" The question burst out before Aiko could control it. "Is he here in Madrid? Can I meet him?"
Isabella's expression grew pained, and she looked down at her hands clasped around her espresso cup. "Aiko, there are things about Javier's situation that are... complicated. Before I answer your questions, I need to understand something. What exactly are you hoping to find by meeting him again?"
"I want to thank him," Aiko said immediately. "What he did for me that day changed the entire direction of my life. I became interested in hairstyling because of his kindness, because of how he made me feel worthy of care when I thought I was worthless. I've spent two years trying to find him."
"Two years searching for him?"
"I worked incredibly hard to get accepted to this program in Spain specifically because I hoped it might lead me to him. I've been investigating cycling programs, trying to track down anyone who might have been part of that group."
Isabella absorbed this information, her expression shifting between amazement and something that looked like distress.
"Aiko, the fact that you've dedicated so much energy to finding him... it speaks to the impact that encounter had on you. But I need you to understand that seeing him now might not give you the resolution you're hoping for."
"What do you mean?"
Isabella was quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with how much to reveal. "There was an accident. The same day he helped you, actually. Javier was... he was badly injured."
"What kind of accident?"
"A cycling accident. After he called me, after he helped you, he was rushing to meet me for dinner. There was a storm coming, and the roads were becoming dangerous..." Isabella's voice grew strained. "He lost control in the rain and crashed."
Aiko felt her heart stop. "Is he... is he okay?"
"He survived. But Aiko, he was very badly hurt. The injuries were severe enough that his cycling career ended immediately. He's been dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath ever since."
"But he's alive? He's recovering?"
Isabella's hesitation was answer enough. "It's complicated. The recovery has been... challenging. There have been setbacks."
"Isabella, please. I need to know. Is he okay now? Can he see visitors? Would he want to see me?"
"That's what I'm trying to determine," Isabella said gently. "The accident affected him in ways that go beyond just physical injuries. I need to understand what you're hoping for from a reunion before I can decide whether it would be beneficial for him."
Aiko realized that Isabella was protecting her brother, screening potential visitors to ensure they wouldn't cause additional trauma or stress. The protective instinct was admirable, but it was also keeping her from the answers she had traveled so far to find.
"I'm not expecting anything romantic or dramatic," Aiko said earnestly. "I just want him to know that his kindness mattered, that it changed someone's life in profound ways. I want him to understand that what he did that day was genuinely important."
Isabella studied her face carefully, as if trying to read the sincerity behind her words. "And if the meeting doesn't go the way you hope? If he's not the same person you remember, or if the reunion doesn't provide the closure you're seeking?"
"Then at least I'll know I tried. At least I'll have expressed my gratitude to the person who deserves to hear it."
Isabella nodded slowly, seeming to reach some internal decision. "There's more you need to know about his condition before we discuss meeting him. The accident... the injuries were more severe than I initially indicated."
"What aren't you telling me?"
Isabella took a deep breath, preparing to share information that would fundamentally change Aiko's understanding of the situation.
"Aiko, Javier hasn't been conscious since the accident occurred. He's been in a medically induced coma for the past two years, and the doctors aren't certain when—or if—he'll recover."
The words hit Aiko like a physical blow, transforming her joy at finally finding him into something much more complex and heartbreaking.
Her search was over, but the ending was nothing like what she had imagined.