● March 22 (Tuesday) Yuuta Asamura

7 a.m.

Weaving through the bustling morning crowd of commuters and students, Ayase-san and I reached the shinkansen ticket gate. Above it, a signboard displayed the name and departure time of our train, marking the start of our three-day graduation trip.

“Yo, over here!” Maru’s voice called out.

I turned to see him standing near the wall by the gate, in a small open space. He held a smartphone in one hand, waving casually with the other. As our eyes met, he glanced back at his phone, fingers tapping away at a game to pass the time. Ayase-san and I rolled our suitcases toward him.

“Maru-kun, you’re early,” Ayase-san remarked.

“Did we keep you waiting?” I added.

“Nah, just about ten minutes,” Maru replied, shrugging it off. But since we’d arrived twenty minutes early, that meant he was thirty minutes early—way ahead of schedule. When I pointed this out, he shared a wry memory from middle school. Apparently, he’d once cut it too close for an event he was excited about, got caught in a train delay, and missed the start.

“Ever since, I leave early for anything I’m looking forward to.”

“I see.”

“Especially with the shinkansen. Missing it would be a disaster…”

Maru’s eyes darted through the crowd, and Ayase-san and I followed his gaze. Right, Narasaka-san still hadn’t shown up. Just then, Maru’s phone pinged, and almost simultaneously, mine buzzed with a notification. Ayase-san pulled her phone from her pocket too.

“That idiot…” Maru muttered, grimacing.

“She’s still on the train,” Ayase-san said, glancing at her screen.

I opened the LINE app. Sure enough, in our group chat was a sticker from Narasaka-san—a cat sprinting at full speed with the caption “Uooo!” As if running on the train would make it arrive faster.

“Every time we meet up, it’s like this,” Maru said, exasperated.

“Well, it’s not even the meeting time yet,” Ayase-san replied. “Besides…”

“She’s here,” I cut in.

At my prompt, Maru and Ayase turned to see Narasaka-san barreling toward us, her red suitcase bouncing wildly as she ran, panting heavily.

“S-Sorry to keep you waiting!” she gasped.

“We weren’t waiting. It’s still before the meeting time,” Maru said, glancing at the station clock. Typical of him to downplay being the first to arrive.

“It’s fine, Maaya,” Ayase-san added. “We’ve still got fifteen minutes before the train leaves.”

“Oh, right, that’s true!” Narasaka-san exhaled in relief.

“Alright, I’ll hand out the tickets and express passes,” I said, pulling out everyone’s tickets and distributing them.

We fed our tickets into the gate, retrieving them as they popped out. Even with time to spare, missing the train wasn’t an option. Passing a shop selling ekiben on our left, we headed toward the escalator to the platform—

“Oh, ekiben!” Narasaka-san’s voice rang out as she veered toward the shop like a moth to a flame.

“Whoa! Charcoal-grilled beef kalbi bento! Looks so good!” she exclaimed.

“Hey, Narasaka!” Maru called, hurrying after her.

“Hmm, this thick-cut katsu bento looks tempting too. Yup, yup. The real joy of a trip is the bento, after all!”

“No, it’s not!” Maru shot back.

“Tomo-kun, you’re not eating? Won’t you get hungry? Or are you already full?” Narasaka-san teased.

“N-No, I haven’t eaten yet, but—”

“Which one’s better? The beef kalbi or the katsu?”

“Balance matters more than just meat. I’d go for this one with both meat and fish—but that’s not the point!”

“Then I’ll take the beef kalbi. Oh, this fukagawa meshi looks delicious too!”

“Na-ra-sa-ka!” Maru growled.

Narasaka-san spun around with a playful twirl. “Yelling in front of the shop is rude, you know?”

“Y-You—!” Maru stammered, dumbfounded.

I patted his shoulder. “Alright, calm down. We’ve still got over ten minutes.”

“We skipped breakfast too,” Ayase-san said soothingly. “Why don’t we just buy four bentos here?”

Following her lead, we each picked out our favorite ekiben before heading down the escalator to the platform. Moments later, our train glided into the station right on schedule. We departed Shinagawa Station as planned.

Our seats were in pairs, one row behind the other, but after checking the guidelines, we rotated them to face each other since the surrounding seats were empty. Narasaka-san took the aisle seat, Maru beside her. I claimed the window seat across from them, with Ayase-san by the aisle.

After stowing our luggage on the overhead rack, we settled in with our bentos and drinks. The train moved so smoothly it barely felt like we were moving—classic shinkansen. Outside the window, Shinagawa’s cityscape blurred by, giving way to a bright blue sky. The temperature had warmed up by our meeting time, promising a spring-like day.

“Phew, finally a moment to relax!” Narasaka-san sighed.

“Would’ve been easier if you hadn’t insisted on the ekiben,” Maru grumbled.

“Eh? But we need bentos, right?” she countered, holding up her bento proudly.

“I’m not saying we don’t.”

“You’re so not honest!”

“It worked out fine,” I interjected. “We met up early, and we skipped breakfast.”

“Oh, speaking of which,” Narasaka-san said, untying her bento’s string, “none of you ate breakfast?”

“Wait, you’re saying you did?” Maru asked.

“Not eating breakfast? Unthinkable! It’s bad for your health! Saki, you at least had something, right?”

“Well… half an apple, maybe?” Ayase-san admitted.

Narasaka-san, already eating again? She clasped her hands, said “Itadakimasu,” and dug into her fukagawa meshi—rice cooked with clams and vegetables in a dashi broth. Scooping up a mix of rice, clams, and veggies, she popped it into her mouth.

“Mmm, delicious!” she beamed.

The savory aroma of the dashi wafted over, stirring my appetite. My stomach nearly growled.

Ayase-san eyed her own bento. “It’s a bit early, but if we think of it as breakfast…”

She’s getting pulled in, I thought.

“It’s fine to eat,” I said. “By the time we arrive, we’ll be hungry again.”

Maru nodded. “Man, you look so happy eating that.”

“It’s delicious! So happy!” Narasaka-san chirped. “Tomo-kun, you know, humans only get a limited number of meals in their lifetime. Every one matters. You can’t waste a single one. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Delicious food, beautiful scenery outside the window, and fun conversation with close friends—oh, that was a pun on ‘friend’ and ‘Tomo-kun’! Did you catch it?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Fun chats with friends—this is the true joy of a trip!”

“I get it, just eat quietly already.”

They’re so close, I thought. Ayase-san must’ve felt the same, because she said, “Maaya, you’ve gotten really close with Maru-kun, huh?”

“Well, we’ve been hanging out as a group of four for over a year since the school trip, right?”

Since the school trip? I nearly raised an eyebrow but then remembered. On the second day of our Singapore trip, at the zoo, Maru’s group and Ayase-san’s group with Narasaka-san ended up spending the day together. By chance, we’d met at the zoo entrance, synced our schedules, and even had dinner together at the Night Safari.

“Back then, I wanted to hang out even more!” Narasaka-san said.

“Well, we were in different classes in our second year,” Ayase-san replied. “And, Maaya aside, I haven’t really met up with Maru-kun much.”

“True,” Maru said. “You came to cheer at the summer tournament, but we didn’t talk much then. I heard you were there thanks to Narasaka, so… belatedly, thanks for that.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Baseball was actually pretty fun,” Ayase-san said.

“So formal!” Narasaka-san teased.

“I’m saying we haven’t talked that much!” Maru protested.

“Seriously? I kinda thought we’d all been hanging out together this whole time,” Narasaka-san said between bites of her fukagawa meshi. “Hmm, so good! Even if it’s cold, this is delicious!”

“I’m kinda in the same boat,” I admitted. “Like Ayase-san said, I don’t have many memories of deep conversations with Narasaka-san. I mostly just heard about her from Maru.”

Narasaka-san nodded enthusiastically, cheeks stuffed with food, looking like a small animal. A grain of rice clung to her lip.

“So eat calmly already,” Maru said. “You’ve got rice on your face.”

“Huh?”

“Not ‘huh.’ Look.”

Maru reached out and flicked the rice grain off her lip. Narasaka-san snatched it from his finger, nibbling it off like it was nothing.

…Wait.

Huh?

Could it be?

“Maru and Narasaka-san… are you two dating?” The thought slipped out before I could stop it.

Ayase-san’s expression shifted beside me, her mouth forming an “ah” as she looked flustered. Oh, crap, was that something I shouldn’t have said? Maru glanced at Narasaka-san, a bit panicked, but she just blinked, unfazed.

“Yeah, we are,” she said casually.

“…S-So that’s how it is,” I stammered, caught off guard by her casual admission.

Maru, flustered, shot Narasaka-san a look. “Tch, it’s because you keep dropping hints!”

But honestly, Maru’s actions were far more telling than her words.

“Huh? I thought it was obvious!” Narasaka-san chirped. “I mean, Asamura-kun, you’re only now noticing? When we planned this group of four for the graduation trip, I thought it was basically a double date!”

I had sensed they were close, but that close? It hadn’t clicked until now.

“Oh… I see,” I murmured, pieces falling into place. “So that’s why Maru kept teasing me and Ayase-san about stuff he’d heard from Narasaka-san…”

Maru stumbled over his response, uncharacteristically sheepish. “Uh, well, I mean…”

“I got some info through less-than-fair means, so… sorry about that,” he admitted.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t mind,” I said.

“Yeah, me neither,” Ayase-san added.

“Phew, thanks for that,” Maru said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

I couldn’t help but smile. Big, dependable Maru, always so honest and composed, was shrinking into himself, visibly embarrassed. Seeing this rare, flustered side of my friend was… kind of endearing.

“What’s with that grin?” Maru asked, catching my expression.

“Just thinking it’s surprising, that’s all. But seeing a new side of you isn’t bad.”

“Don’t tease me,” he muttered, his sulky expression only adding to the charm.

“Right? You get it, Asamura-kun!” Narasaka-san exclaimed, as if reading my mind. “That’s what’s so cute about him!”

“C-Cute? Come on!” Maru protested.

“No, no, the embarrassed face of a guy who’s usually all smart and serious? That’s, like, major points!”

Narasaka-san launched into a rapid-fire list of Maru’s “cute traits,” while he sat there with a sour look, making it worse for himself.

As we finished our bentos, Ayase-san and I listened to how Maru and Narasaka-san got together. Apparently, they didn’t even know they were classmates at Suisei High at first. They’d met as friends on the same server in some online game—though I didn’t quite grasp what that meant, since I’m not a gamer. They hit it off so well they decided to meet offline, only to discover they were classmates.

“It started when she asked me to buy some anime merch for her,” Maru explained. “I couldn’t ask for a stranger’s address, so I suggested convenience store pickup. But we both kinda knew we lived nearby, and she said it was okay to meet up.”

That’s some serious trust he earned—classic Maru.

“But didn’t you notice?” I asked.

“Online, we used handles,” Maru said. “And Narasaka claimed she was a college girl. Total fraud.”

“Don’t make it sound bad!” Narasaka-san interjected. “It was self-defense, okay? Being a high school girl attracts creeps. Saying I’m an adult woman makes people take me more seriously.”

“Is that so?” I said, not entirely convinced.

Maru tilted his head, equally skeptical. “Fine, let’s leave it at that.”

They were shocked to meet in person, already vaguely aware of each other as classmates. Come to think of it, Maru had once mentioned Narasaka-san being a bit of a celebrity back when I started living with Ayase-san’s family.

As their story unfolded, the shinkansen hummed along. Mount Fuji was visible when Narasaka-san began talking, but by the time she finished, we’d passed Shizuoka. In short: they met at an offline event, realized they shared friends in me and Ayase-san, which drew them closer, and swapped stories about us that brought them even closer. They hadn’t expected to become a couple, though.

Just then, the shinkansen jolted slightly, the window on our side trembling faintly. A low hum, like tinnitus, sounded as the window darkened briefly. Before I could react, I realized we’d passed an oncoming shinkansen, already far behind us. The peaceful spring scenery returned outside.

“That scared me!” Narasaka-san, by the window, clutched her chest.

“You’re overreacting,” Maru said. “You’ve passed trains tons of times on the Yamanote Line.”

“Totally different! It was so fast, I couldn’t even see inside the other train!”

“It was packed,” Maru said.

“You saw that?”

“Nah, just made it up.”

“What! I was impressed, thinking, ‘As expected of the baseball team captain!’”

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

“Give me back my admiration!”

“Not for free.”

“Huh? I already ate my bento!”

“I’m not talking about your bento.”

“Oh no, Asamura-kun, Tomo-kun’s being naughty!” Narasaka-san teased.

“Hey! What are you saying?!” Maru blurted, abandoning his usual calm.

I laughed.

“See? You made him laugh.”

“It’s fine if I’m making people laugh, right, Asamura-kun?” Narasaka-san said, flashing a V-sign.

“Yeah, sure. I did laugh, and you two are totally in sync.”

Maru, unusually, looked away, embarrassed. Narasaka-san’s win, no doubt. But they’d only been dating a year, yet they acted like they’d been together forever. Compared to their chemistry, Ayase-san and I were moving at a snail’s pace.

I caught Ayase-san staring alternately at Narasaka-san and Maru. “Something wrong, Ayase-san?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” she said, her face slightly red before she turned to the window, pretending to look outside. What was that? She kept her gaze fixed outward, and though I found it odd, the lively conversation swept me up, and I let it go.

Right on schedule, the shinkansen glided into Shin-Osaka Station. Our plan for the first day was to tour Osaka.

“First, we drop our stuff at the hotel, right, Asamura?” Maru asked.

I nodded, checking the loose itinerary on my phone. This trip was about actively maintaining our friendships with Maru and Narasaka-san, not just coasting on their energy.

“The hotel’s less than a five-minute walk from the station,” I said.

“Sorry for leaving the booking to you,” Maru said.

“No, it’s fine. Ayase-san and I planned this, so let us handle it.”

Ayase-san nodded beside me.

“Alright, let’s get to the hotel,” Maru said.

“If we can even make it there,” Narasaka-san added. “First, we’ve gotta escape Shin-Osaka Station.”

Ayase-san tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“She means navigating the Shin-Osaka labyrinth to get to the hotel,” I clarified.

“It’s easy to get lost?” Ayase-san asked.

“Exactly,” Narasaka-san said.

Big city stations, with their converging train lines, can be bewildering. Follow the signs, and you still might end up somewhere unfamiliar.

“Phew, good thing it’s not Umeda,” Narasaka-san added. “That place is a legit dungeon, I hear!”

“Heard that one before,” Maru said. “But Shibuya Station’s pretty confusing too. Since we’re used to that, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Plus, we’ve got map apps,” Ayase-san said, earning nods from us all.

As Shibuya dungeon explorers, we weren’t too worried. It was our first time in Kansai, but we escaped the shinkansen platform and reached the hotel—or so we thought. Online info and reality are worlds apart. Exiting the central shinkansen gate, we could see outside, but the rotary was for cars only. We backtracked, went down stairs, and finally reached the pedestrian level. Seeing the hotel, I sighed in relief. Five minutes later, we arrived.

“I’m already exhausted!” Narasaka-san exclaimed.

“You can’t be tired when we’ve just reached the hotel,” Maru retorted.

We checked in at the front desk, confirming two twin rooms—one for the guys, one for the girls. I handed out the card keys. Narasaka-san, inspecting hers, said casually, “Not splitting by couples, huh?”

Maru shot back, “It’d be awkward the next day!”

Ayase-san and I nodded solemnly—exactly. Imagine meeting the other couple at breakfast, wondering what they were thinking. Even if nothing happened, it’d be awkward. Unlike Ayase-san and me, Maru and Narasaka-san didn’t have the stepsibling barrier. My mind wandered—maybe they’d already… I shook my head, banishing the thought. Letting my imagination run wild on a graduation trip would wear me out.

“But it’s a precious memory with Saki too! The girls’ room sounds fun!” Narasaka-san said, already switching gears while I grappled with my thoughts.

We dropped our luggage in our rooms and met in the lobby.

“Where to first?” Ayase-san asked, checking her map app.

I glanced at my phone’s notes. The schedule was loose, listing spots like Osaka Castle, Dotonbori, and Namba Grand Kagetsu. I’d researched locations and routes but didn’t want a rushed tour. Osaka Castle was the must-see for today.

“…After that, we’ll wander as time allows,” I said.

“No objections here,” Maru said.

“Then, Osaka Castle first!” Narasaka-san declared.

“From Shin-Osaka Station, take the Midosuji Line to Hommachi Station, then the Chuo Line to Tanimachi Yonchome Station. From there, it’s a walk,” Ayase-san confirmed.

We nearly got lost again at Shin-Osaka Station but reached Tanimachi Yonchome Station an hour later. A fifteen-minute walk brought us to Osaka Castle’s main gate, where a large park spread out to the left.

“The central part of the castle is called the ‘Honmaru,’” Ayase-san explained. “Then it’s named by importance: ‘Ninomaru,’ ‘Sannomaru.’ This area is part of the ‘Ninomaru,’ and since it’s west of the castle, it’s called the ‘Nishinomaru.’”

“Oh, so that’s why it’s called Nishinomaru Garden,” I said.

Ayase-san nodded. “Probably.”

Narasaka-san stared at Maru. “So, if there’s an east side, it’d be Higashinomaru?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Maru asked.

“So, since Tomo-kun from Higashinomaru is joining Nishinomaru, this must be the center! Alright, let’s call it Marunmaru Garden today!”

“No way!” Maru retorted.

Narasaka-san’s joke might’ve irked locals if they overheard. Still, Nishinomaru Garden, with Osaka Castle towering to the east, was a cherry blossom hotspot.

“Whoa! They’re blooming!” Narasaka-san’s excitement surged at the sight. The cherry blossoms were only about 20% bloomed but still stunning. According to the guide, around 300 trees would soon burst into full bloom, framing the castle spectacularly.

“This makes them look even prettier!” Narasaka-san said, dashing under the trees, cheering. “Wow!”

Tilting her head back, she gazed at the blue sky as a breeze sent petals fluttering upward. Though only the earliest flowers fell, their dance against the azure canvas was mesmerizing, shifting like a kaleidoscope. I looked up, sharing her view.

Ayase-san gasped beside me. “Cherry blossoms are just… nice, aren’t they?”

We stood, gazing at the sky together for a while. When I came to, Narasaka-san had run to the park’s edge, and Maru was reading a signboard intently. Everyone’s personalities shone in moments like these.

“Can I take some photos?” Ayase-san asked.

“Sure. I’ll keep looking at the cherry blossoms,” I replied.

While Ayase-san snapped photos of Osaka Castle, I watched the pink petals dance in the blue sky. Time passed slowly.

Then we moved to Osaka Castle’s keep. Though the exterior looked traditional, the interior was a modern museum. Thanks to Maru’s tip about buying tickets online, we skipped the counter—a small victory. I wasn’t great at these social moves, unlike Maru or Narasaka-san, who connected with people effortlessly.

Ayase-san was engrossed in the exhibits—letters, paintings, artifacts—studying them closely, unlike Maru, who read every plaque. On the second floor, a corner for trying on helmets and battle coats had Maru and Narasaka-san playfully dressing up, recording videos. Those two could go viral online with their charisma.

“Saki, try on a kosode!” Narasaka-san urged.

“Pass,” Ayase-san said.

“It’d be cute!”

“I’m good for now. I’ve taken enough photos.”

Narasaka-san tilted her head but didn’t push, knowing when to back off. Ayase-san’s “enough photos” likely referred to her hakama graduation photos, but this time it was different. Her “for now” wasn’t a flat refusal, showing she was less photo-averse than before.

We spent about two hours exploring at a leisurely pace before heading to Dotonbori. After changing trains, we got off at Nippombashi Station.

“Nippombashi” uses a short “o,” unlike Kanto’s “Nihonbashi,” which can confuse people from there.

“Can’t we just say Nihonbashi?” Narasaka-san asked, using the Kanto pronunciation.

“No way,” Maru said seriously. “That’s Tokyo’s Nihonbashi in Chuo Ward. This is Osaka. ‘Nippombashi’ is the native pronunciation.”

“…Okay. Okay? Okay,” Narasaka-san said.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Hence, Nippombashi,” Maru insisted.

“We’re Kanto folks using Kanto pronunciations, so we’re already not native, right?” Narasaka-san countered.

While they debated pointlessly, Ayase-san checked her map app. “If we head north from here, we’ll reach the east side of Dotonbori’s shopping street.”

We walked through a narrow, roofed market street to the wider Dotonbori shopping district. A giant crab model hung as a sign for a familiar Kanto chain restaurant, but unfamiliar shops abounded. The air buzzed with vibrant Kansai dialect and foreign tourists’ languages.

“Don’t you think there are a lot of 3D signs?” Maru muttered.

Now that he mentioned it, yeah. Compared to Shibuya’s flat digital billboards, the vibe here was distinct.

With so many eateries and lunchtime approaching, delicious smells teased our noses. We hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

“…Wanna eat something?” I asked.

“I’m starving,” Maru said.

“It’s almost two. Shops are probably less crowded now,” Ayase-san said.

No one objected, so we wandered the street for a place to eat. A voice called out, “If you’re hungry, come eat!” A round-faced auntie at a small takoyaki stand beckoned us in thick Kansai dialect, her voice booming.

Maru and I flinched at her intensity, but Narasaka-san, Suisei High’s top communicator, rose to the occasion. “Wow, looks delicious, auntie—er, I mean, big sister!”

Her blatant flattery worked. The auntie beamed, handing her a single takoyaki on a skewer as a thank-you.

“Yay!” Narasaka-san popped it in her mouth without hesitation. “Delicious! I can really taste the octopus! And it feels a bit different from Kanto’s takoyaki! Yup, Osaka’s takoyaki is awesome!”

“Right?” the auntie said proudly, launching into a spiel about her shop’s takoyaki. To us non-experts, it was hard to tell how it differed, but Narasaka-san nodded along, laughing every few seconds. What was so funny?

We bought four portions—with Narasaka’s having free toppings. The big-octopus takoyaki was piping hot and delicious, no complaints.

Maru shouted, “Delicious!” before speaking poetically. “Kanto takoyaki is often fried crispy outside. These are softer—crisp, maybe crunchy at most. The inside is gooey. When you bite, the soft batter spills out, hot enough to burn, but that heat enhances the flavor. You huff and puff, then the octopus tumbles out, dancing on your tongue. Bite down, and the flavor explodes, causing a riot in your mouth. Ahh, I’m eating takoyaki! Pure bliss.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I said.

“Some people dance when it’s delicious. Others narrate,” Maru replied.

“Who dances?”

“Right there.”

Narasaka-san was waving her takoyaki skewer in a little dance.

“Narasaka-san,” I said.

“It’s the delicious dance!” she declared.

I glanced around, but passersby ignored her, in a good way. “Am I… overthinking this?”

“Asamura-kun! Expressing how delicious something is our duty to the people who made it!”

Glancing back, the auntie was watching Narasaka-san’s dance with a delighted smile. Narasaka-san, finished with her takoyaki, grinned with satisfaction.

I got it.

“The dashi flavor might be different too,” Ayase-san mumbled.

“Saki, you noticed?” Narasaka-san jumped in. “Kanto often uses katsuobushi for dashi, but Kansai uses kombu. Mix that with miso or light soy sauce, and you get this flavor.”

“Wow, Narasaka, you’re knowledgeable,” I said.

“My parents are busy, so I cook for my siblings. I watch cooking videos and pick things up,” she said.

“I watch recipe videos to learn, but… I don’t remember stuff like that,” Ayase-san admitted.

“This is definitely delicious. I might like this flavor better,” I said.

“Me too. Maybe I’ll try making it with Maaya’s recipe at home,” Ayase-san said.

“Really? You can? I’d love to try. I want to learn too,” I said.

“Sure, next time,” Ayase-san replied.

Narasaka-san and Maru exchanged sly smiles. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Narasaka-san said.

“Just sounds like a married couple’s conversation,” Maru teased.

Ayase-san turned away with a huff. “Don’t tease.”

For lunch, we popped into an okonomiyaki restaurant. By the time we left, it was past three, and we headed to Namba Grand Kagetsu, a comedy theater less than a ten-minute walk south through Sennichimae shopping street. We made it just in time for the 3:30 p.m. entry and 4:00 p.m. show, buying same-day tickets.

“This place was on the schedule Asamura-kun showed us, right?” Narasaka-san said, recalling our video call planning session. “Tomo-kun and I love comedy, but I was surprised it was on Asamura-kun’s list from the start.”

“Yeah, true,” Maru said.

I’d added it after searching for fun spots around Shin-Osaka. Ayase-san and I kept it on the list, despite not being big on comedy, because, “It’s Osaka, the heart of comedy, right?” I said.

Ayase-san nodded. “Since we don’t usually care about it, I thought it’d be cool to check it out.”

Travel is about encountering the extraordinary, breaking from routine to spark curiosity. Even if comedy didn’t become a new interest, learning our limits was fine too. Though, wanting to taste authentic comedy was probably the bigger reason.

The show started soon after we sat. Maru and Narasaka-san recognized most comedians, while I barely knew any, though a few seemed vaguely familiar from TV. The manzai and sketches were fun even for novices like Ayase-san and me. I laughed naturally, and glancing over, Ayase-san was covering her mouth, body bent in a “C” shape, trying to stifle her laughter. Unlike Narasaka-san’s loud laughs, Ayase-san seemed embarrassed but couldn’t hold it in, trembling and leaning on my shoulder. “Sorry, it’s too funny,” she said. She could just laugh like Narasaka-san, though…

By the time the show ended, it was night. Just past six, the street outside the theater glowed with shop lights. The sky was a black velvet curtain, stars invisible against the city’s glow. I wondered what kind of play would start if that curtain rose.

Strolling through Dotonbori one last time, Ayase-san’s voice carried a wistful note. “I haven’t laughed this much in a while.” She’d finally let loose by the end, her laughter ringing out openly. It struck me—I’d never seen her laugh so freely before.

“Really?” I asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Saki laugh with her mouth wide open either,” Narasaka-san chimed in.

“I don’t do that,” Ayase-san said, a touch defensive.

“Laughter’s good for you!” Narasaka-san urged. “Saki, you should laugh more openly.”

“Indeed,” Maru added. “Laughter boosts immunity and reduces stress.”

Narasaka-san and Maru kept encouraging her, their love for comedy shining through.

“Sketches and manzai are great, right?” Narasaka-san said.

“Well… I thought so,” Ayase-san admitted.

“You’ve got a partner, so it’s a waste not to use it,” Narasaka-san teased.

Wait, is that “partner” me?

“Living under the same roof is the perfect setup!” Narasaka-san continued. “You could do sketches while living together!”

“Why would we need to do sketches at home?” Ayase-san countered.

“Tomo-kun and I are always like that when we hang out!” Narasaka-san said, glancing at Maru, who nodded. “Yeah.”

Really?

“Well, Narasaka’s mostly just making bad puns, and I reluctantly play along,” Maru clarified.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Narasaka-san huffed.

“Jiguchi?” Ayase-san tilted her head.

Maru and I explained. Jiguchi is wordplay, swapping similar-sounding words for fun—like “Shita-kiri Suzume” (Tongue-Cut Sparrow) becoming “Kita-kiri Suzume” (Sparrow wearing the same clothes). The goal is to stray far from the original meaning while keeping the sound close.

“It takes brainpower if you think about it seriously,” Maru said, “but Narasaka’s are just cheap puns.”

“The path of comedy is tough!” Narasaka-san declared. “Amateurs start with puns!”

“Where are you even aiming…” Maru muttered.

“So, basically, you two are always bantering like that?” Ayase-san asked.

They nodded in perfect sync.

…That’s a high bar, I thought. Back at Nishinomaru Garden, Narasaka-san had called Maru “Higashinomaru” and dubbed their duo “Marunmaru Garden.” Lame puns, sure, but Maru played along dutifully. That must be their dynamic.

“Tomo-kun, look! There’s no line over there!” Narasaka-san exclaimed, darting toward a small shop.

“Hey, we’re about to have dinner… Wait!” Maru called, chasing after her.

“Egg tarts?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Exaggeration much?” Ayase-san said.

“Maybe,” I replied with a grin.

I looked up egg tarts on my phone. In 1989, a British guy named Andrew tweaked a Portuguese tart recipe, and it took off in Macau. That explained the shop’s name.

Narasaka-san, true to form, was chatting up the vendor with her stellar social skills. “How about one for you and your boyfriend?” the vendor teased. Maru looked embarrassed—a refreshing sight—and they ended up buying two tarts each. Two tarts before dinner… they sure could eat.

“The banter like sketches or manzai…” Ayase-san murmured.

I turned to her. “It’s like what you and Shiori-san do at work, right?” She said suddenly.

I didn’t think I was doing sketches.

“You two seem so in sync,” she said.

“I think it’s just Yomiuri-senpai being quick to catch my words and turn them into jokes.”

“You two go well together,” Ayase-san said.

“Hold on, hold on,” I said, facing her properly, feeling the need to clarify. “Being able to do manzai isn’t proof of being a couple, right? Narasaka-san meant using humor as part of a couple’s playful dynamic. Sure, some people are better at it, but some couples prefer comfortable silence.”

I added with a slight smile, “If doing manzai made you a couple, then all the comedy duos we saw would be dating, right?”

Ayase-san fell silent, looking up as if picturing the comedy pairs we’d seen. “All of them…” she murmured.

“Yup, couples, by your logic. They were so in sync, right? At the end, they all came out for the curtain call and made a big heart together.”

“…Pfft,” she let out a small laugh, then said, “Stop it.”

I was just applying her logic, though. “Asamura-kun, how do you come up with such weird ideas?”

“Thanks for playing along with my joke. I think just responding like that is enough, you know?”

Ayase-san’s mouth formed an “ah,” then she groaned, “Hmm.”

“But that’s because you’re setting up the jokes, right?”

True, but— “You throw in some jokes too sometimes, Ayase-san.”

“Me!?” she said, clearly unaware.

“Sorry for the wait!” Narasaka-san and Maru returned.

“We’re about to have dinner. You guys okay?” I asked.

“Totally fine!” Narasaka-san chirped.

She then marched into a Chinese restaurant, polished off a bowl of ramen, and left us all stunned.

And so, the first day of our graduation trip came to an end.