By ANJU HIGASHI

My friends and I press our small faces to the chilled glass of the display case, admiring the pillowy, multi-colored daifuku. Each of our excited hands grabs a long-awaited piece of sticky rice cake, and we giggle over sweet bites of rainbow mochi from Fugetsu-do, our fingers and smiles sticky with laughter.

We wander through Bunkado, shuffling through the aisles in search of cat-shaped trinkets and Ghibli postcards like hidden treasure, careful not to knock over the delicate Japanese ceramics.

I remember my friends’ faces lighting up as they tried a bite of okonomiyaki, hesitant at first, but quickly won over by the sweet and salty flavors.

These were some of my many “firsts” in Little Tokyo. And I don’t want them to become “lasts.”

Having lived in communities across

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