Osaka Romanesque

The clamor remained whenever her feet took her. The laughter and chattering. Shopkeepers' rough yells from the storefronts into the streets, a call to lure in patrons. The music of pachinko parlors and dive bars. The sizzling from kushi-katsu stalls. The groaning and singing of the inebriated.

The bustling place was as noisy and raucous as it was animated, and she imagined people had to raise their voices whenever they had to talk. She certainly did.

Zuikaku thought she would never see the same explosion of colors and lights elsewhere. The Commander—no, Jinguji-san, she corrected herself—had said so before.

There will be no other place like Shinsekai. The name was as ironic as it got—little had changed at this place throughout its checkered history. It was as if even time had slowed down for a leisurely stroll—just like all the people there. Perhaps that's why she felt some kind of nostalgia, even though she had never set foot there before. Maybe that's also because she recognized things he had shown her before in pictures. She indeed recognized the Billiken, the god of things as they ought to be—statues of whom dotted the streets. She knew the Tsutenkaku, its dull grey masked by a thousand neon lights.

And speaking of that person, she realized he had gone far ahead of her. Everyone walked at their own pace. But she could still see his head among the crowd and rushed to catch up.

"There you are, little birdie. I was looking for you," the man, formerly Commander Jinguji, said—voice raised, as expected—when he noticed her arriving, panting. Then he laughed, and Zuikaku had to doubt the veracity of his claim. But she smiled anyway as she tried to catch a breath—that laugh was just like everyone else's. So very honest.

"Funny. I was looking for you because you left me behind," she said just as aloud, and he laughed even more before offering her a can of strong chuhai.

"Well then, take this drink as an apology."

"I almost got myself lost in this noisy, foreign place because someone left me behind...and all he could offer was a can of cheap alcohol. Oh, woe is me."

That was a jest, and she knew he was aware of that. Even though he had stopped laughing, his cheeky smile remained as she took the can anyway. Now that he had retired, it seemed even more natural.

"Ah, is that so, little birdie? Would you like something else, then?" He offered, and Zuikaku took a swig. He was most likely joking, just as she did before—yet she couldn't help but blush a little. She had a mind to say another joke in return but found she could only think of one thing.

"Well, maybe...I...wish you won't leave me behind again."

For a moment, she wondered if he heard it well, because she ended up mumbling the answer. To her surprise, he didn't laugh this time as he would often do when she got flustered.

"Yeah, I won't," he said, finding Zuikaku staring back, both doubtful and hopeful.

"You...won't?"

"Not after you came all the way to this city to find me."

"Oh...ah...well..." Zuikaku fumbled for words. She regretted blurting out those words before because he seemed so surprised to see her.

To her dismay, he didn't show much reaction other than being quite flippant after that—though she was glad he was welcoming. Still, the fact he didn't question everything left her bothered throughout the day—but she left them unsaid.

As she racked her brain in a vain attempt to find something that would make things less embarrassing, Zuikaku noticed him approaching with a gentler smile.

"I've been wondering for some time now—why did you trouble yourself like that."

Zuikaku cast her eyes warily about. The crowd passed them by, noisy still. She knew she had no other choice. He had always valued honesty above everything else, and to be dishonest now would make everything pointless.

She could tell her answer would be drowned by the cacophony, but her feelings should be clear enough for him. The question of whether he heard or not and the dread became irrelevant when she found her hand in his.

"You know, I'd always adore honest people. That's why I adore you."

"...As do I, Jinguji-san," Zuikaku replied. She felt a little more daring now—and not just from the alcohol.

Soon a familiar, endearing laugh erupted, joining the merry chorus of Shinsekai. And Zuikaku thought it was just right that she laughed along.