Page 236 of Faking the Goal

I set all twelve volumes on the nightstand beside her.

Her eyes widen.

She looks at the books.

Then at me.

Then back at the books.

"Is that..."

"Yeah."

She reaches for the first volume carefully, staring at the cover. "Genbu Kaiden?"

I nod.

Her face lights up for half a second before suspicion quickly replaces it. "Wait." She turns the book over and examines the spine before flipping it back around. "These are the Japanese editions."

"Yeah."

Her eyes rise slowly to mine. "And what, exactly, do you expect me to do with twelve volumes of manga written entirely in a language I cannot read?"

"Read them."

She gives me the flattest look I've ever seen.

I shrug.

"Unless falling down those stairs knocked my brain into becoming bilingual, I'm going to need a little more help than that, Ken-chan."

"Just open it."

"I did open it. Still Japanese."

"Open it properly, trouble."

She mutters something under her breath about insufferable men but flips open the first volume again. This time she turns past the title pages and reaches the beginning of the story.

Her fingers stop.

For several seconds, she doesn't say anything.

Then I hear the softest gasp.

Tiny lines of English fill the margins beside the Japanese dialogue, written neatly enough not to cover the artwork. Every speech bubble has a corresponding translation, along with the occasional note where the meaning wouldn't have made much sense translated literally. I kept everything as small and unobtrusive as possible, working around the panels instead of writing over the illustrations.

Taylor flips another page.

Then another.

Her movements become faster as she realizes it doesn't stop.

Every page.

Every chapter.

Her gaze snaps to the remaining books stacked beside her.