Chapter 259: Delinquent Gang Attacks! Kindergarten Principal Bunta Takakura Returns! Scares Them Off Directly!
The morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting slender light spots on the floor.
Hiroshi Nohara slowly opened his eyes, rubbed his throbbing temples, the hangover fatigue mostly gone, replaced by a long-missed freshness.
He turned his head to look beside him; Misae Kobayashi had already woken up and was sitting at the desk by the bed, holding a thick folder in her hand, her brows slightly furrowed, muttering softly about “Kumamon merchandise design” and “manga club new proposal.”
“Awake?” Misae heard the movement, turned her head with a smile, a hint of red bloodshot in her eyes from staying up late, “I thought you’d sleep more. There’s miso soup warming in the pot, and your favorite natto rice. I’ll get some for you.”
Hiroshi Nohara reached out to pull her back, gently ruffling her hair: “No rush, rest first. Look at those dark circles; did you stay up late revising the proposal again last night?”
Misae stuck out her tongue and sat on the edge of the bed: “No, it’s the manga artists from Future Manga Company. They want to design a Kumamon collaboration comic with 《Doraemon》 and develop merchandise stickers. I have to help them sort out their ideas. Plus, Older Sister Misae’s engagement banquet is coming up. Isshin Fujiwara said Kumamoto Prefecture has Kumamon-themed events lately, and I still need to help Mother pick souvenirs.”
Looking at the “Kumamon merchandise sketches” spread out in her hand—there were stickers of Doraemon hugging Kumamon, and manga notebooks printed with Kumamon patterns.
Hiroshi Nohara couldn’t help laughing: “Our Misae is getting more capable. But don’t work on these today. I’ll take you to Ginza for good food, consider it a day off.”
Misae’s eyes lit up instantly: “Really? But the manga club stuff…”
“Let them discuss it first themselves, decide when we get back.” Hiroshi Nohara got out of bed, his tone gently firm, “You’ve been running around with me lately; it’s time to relax properly for a day.”
After washing up and finishing breakfast, they drove to Ginza. Ginza streets were especially lively on the weekend, with ladies in exquisite kimonos, well-dressed office workers, and students with school bags shuttling through the streets; luxury goods in the shop windows contrasted beautifully with traditional crafts.
Hiroshi Nohara held Misae’s hand, walking slowly along the central avenue, sunlight warming them both.
“Let’s go to ‘Ginza Sushi Sei’ first; their tuna belly sushi is especially fresh.” Hiroshi Nohara pointed to a wooden storefront not far away, with red lanterns hanging at the doorway saying “Sushi Sei” in big letters.
Entering the shop, the master craftsman was already waiting behind the bar counter, fresh tuna, salmon, and arctic surf clams neatly arranged on ice cubes.
“Hiroshi-san, Misae-chan, long time no see!” The master craftsman greeted with a smile, his sushi knife spinning quickly, “Same as usual today? Tuna belly sushi, sea urchin sushi, plus a tamagoyaki?”
“Add an eel sushi!” Misae spoke first, her eyes sparkling at the ingredients in the master’s hands, “I ate it once last time and still crave it!”
The master craftsman nodded with a smile and soon served the exquisite sushi.
The tuna belly sushi melted in the mouth, the sea urchin’s fresh sweetness spread in the mouth, the tamagoyaki carried a faint honey aroma, and the eel sushi’s sauce was rich but not cloying. Misae ate with full satisfaction, sauce on her mouth corner; Hiroshi Nohara smilingly wiped it off with tissues, his eyes full of indulgence.
After sushi, they went to the “Ginza Baumkuchen Cake Shop” at the street corner.
Freshly baked baumkuchen cake emitted a buttery aroma, cut into thick slices on paper plates, paired with a hot matcha, sweet but not cloying. Misae took a bite, her eyes curving into crescents: “Better than the one I ate in Osaka last time! Hiroshi-kun, how did you know about this shop?”
“Xiang Shuishang-san recommended it when filming 《Late-night Diner》.” Hiroshi Nohara sipped matcha, his tone reminiscent, “He said this shop’s baumkuchen uses an old Showa period recipe, tastes like childhood.”
They chatted while eating, from Kumamon merchandise design to Misae’s engagement banquet, from the manga club’s new proposal to the filming plan for 《Taste of Neon》.
Sunlight through the glass window fell on Misae’s smiling face; Hiroshi Nohara suddenly felt that such ordinary daily life was more reassuring than any honor.
At two in the afternoon, they entered “Toho Cinema” in Ginza to watch the hit movie 《Tokyo Story》.
The theater wasn’t crowded; they chose middle seats. As soon as they sat, Misae excitedly took out freshly bought popcorn: “They say this movie is especially moving. I brought tissues; if I cry later, you can’t laugh at me.”
Hiroshi Nohara smilingly took the popcorn: “Okay, won’t laugh at you. If I cry, you hand me tissues too.”
After the movie started, the theater gradually quieted.
In the black-and-white footage, Tokyo street scenes slowly unfolded, the delicate emotional portrayal warming the heart.
Misae watched intently, occasionally wiping tears secretly; Hiroshi Nohara watched while mentally analyzing the lens work—the director’s control of light and shadow, capture of character expressions, all worth learning.
At the movie’s climax, a sharp phone ringtone suddenly rang, breaking the theater’s tranquility.
Misae jolted awake, fumbled for her mobile phone in panic, saw “Future Manga Company – Nanako Sato” on the screen, her face changing instantly.
“Sorry, Hiroshi-kun, I’ll take this outside.” Misae whispered, full of apology, got up quickly and hurried out of the screening room.
Hiroshi Nohara’s heart sank, a vague bad premonition.
He stared at the screening room doorway, fingers unconsciously gripping his clothes; he couldn’t focus on the movie anymore.
About five minutes later, Misae rushed back, pale-faced, eyes red-rimmed, voice trembling: “Hiroshi-kun, bad news! The manga club… a gang of delinquents came to collect ‘protection money,’ smashed our drawing stands; Nanako and the others are almost scared to tears!”
Hiroshi Nohara stood up abruptly, brows tightly furrowed, eyes instantly serious: “Don’t panic, call the police first. We’ll go now.”
He pulled Misae quickly out of the theater, not even caring about the unfinished movie.
In the car, Hiroshi Nohara started the engine swiftly, steering flexibly; the twenty-minute trip took only ten minutes to reach the office building where Future Manga Company was.
As soon as the car stopped, Misae impatiently pushed the door and ran into the office building.
Hiroshi Nohara followed closely, full of doubts—Future Manga Company was on a middle floor of the office building, usually low-profile; why suddenly targeted by delinquents?
Could someone be targeting them on purpose?
They hurried into the elevator; Misae’s hands still shaking: “This morning when leaving, Nanako said she’d finish the draft of the Kumamon collaboration comic today. How could this happen suddenly…”
Hiroshi Nohara gently patted the back of her hand, tone steady: “Don’t worry, I’m here. Let’s check the situation first. If they’re still there, wait for police; if gone, we’ll comfort everyone and fix the drawing stands.”
The elevator dinged open; they hurried toward the manga club.
Before reaching the door, intermittent voices came from inside; Misae’s heart leaped to her throat, gripping Hiroshi Nohara’s arm tightly. But when they reached the door and saw the scene, both were stunned—
Several manga artists from Future Manga Company were bowing to a middle-aged man in a yellow suit and sunglasses, no fear on their faces, but gratitude.
The middle-aged man was slightly plump, with a honest smile on his lips, scratching the back of his head, tone somewhat embarrassed: “No need to be so polite. I was just passing by, saw someone causing trouble, so I came to check.”
“Wh… what’s going on?” Misae widened her eyes, turned to Hiroshi Nohara full of confusion, “Wasn’t it a gang of delinquents? Why is everyone bowing to this man?”
Hiroshi Nohara looked at the man in the yellow suit, a smile tugging at his lips, pulled Misae inside: “So it’s Bunta Takakura. Long time no see.”
Bunta Takakura turned at the voice, saw Hiroshi Nohara, quickly removed his sunglasses, face lighting up with surprise, stepped forward with a respectful bow: “Mr. Nohara, Miss Misae, didn’t expect to meet you here!”
“Bunta Takakura?” Misae frowned, scrutinizing the man, suddenly realizing, “I remember! You’re the photographer from before? You took group photos for us last time! But Hiroshi-kun, why call him ‘Kindergarten Principal’?”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled and explained: “Mr. Takakura was a photographer, but he always dreamed of returning home to open a kindergarten and be the principal. We talked about it before; he said once he saved enough, he’d quit photography and focus on the kindergarten.”
Misae covered her mouth in surprise: “That’s it! I thought you’d forgotten those little things, but you remember so clearly.”
“How could I forget.” Hiroshi Nohara looked at Bunta Takakura, tone curious, “Mr. Takakura, why are you here? Has your kindergarten opened?”
Bunta Takakura’s face broke into an honest smile, nodding vigorously: “It has! In Kasukabe, Saitama Prefecture, just recruited over twenty kids last month, all local children. Came to Tokyo this time to take promotional photos for the kindergarten. Passing this office building, saw some shady guys outside arguing about collecting protection money from ‘Future Manga Company,’ so I came in to check.”
He paused, scratched his head, tone embarrassed: “They saw me dressed formally, thought I was the building’s security captain. I told them ‘this is a proper office building, no trouble allowed,’ and they panicked and ran. I was going to leave, but these young ladies insisted on thanking me, said they’d draw promotional comics for my kindergarten. I couldn’t refuse, so I stayed a bit.”
“So you saved us!” Nanako Sato from the manga club said excitedly, holding drawing paper, “Mr. Takakura, we were terrified earlier. Those guys not only demanded protection money but pushed over our drawing stands. Good thing you came in time! We just decided to draw a set of ‘Kumamon and Kids’ promotional comics for your kindergarten, guaranteed cute!”
Bunta Takakura waved hands hastily: “No need, no need, just a small favor. I’ve seen your comics; 《Doraemon》 is great, our kindergarten kids love it. If you really draw, I’d be so grateful.”
Hiroshi Nohara watched the scene, his tense nerves finally relaxing, warmth surging in his heart.
He walked to the toppled drawing stands, bent to lift them, checked carefully: “The stands are just tilted, not broken; readjust and they’re good. Sorry everyone was startled earlier. Tonight I’ll treat to barbecue as apology.”
“Great! Thanks, Hiroshi-san!” The manga club members cheered instantly, earlier fear dissipated.
Misae heard Bunta Takakura mention the kindergarten kids, eyes lighting up, smiled quickly: “Mr. Takakura, since the kids like Kumamon, what a coincidence! When helping the manga club with Kumamon merchandise vendors, I ordered extra mini Kumamon dolls, originally for Misae’s engagement banquet as souvenirs, plus Kumamon keychains! Now they seem perfect for the kids! The dolls are soft material with different expressions; kids will love them!”
Bunta Takakura waved hands in front, face flattered: “How can I accept, Miss Misae! You already gave me a Kumamon keychain; dolls for the kids too—I’m so grateful! If the kids see such cute dolls, they’ll crowd me asking ‘Principal, where’d these come from?’ I’ll tell them they’re from the gentle Miss Misae!”
“Don’t be so polite!” Misae shook head smiling, tone sincere, “Without you today, the manga club would’ve suffered. Dolls are nothing; making kids happy is best. I’ll have them delivered to your kindergarten soon. If not enough, I’ll order more from the vendor—as a little gift from Hiroshi and me to the kids.”
Bunta Takakura’s eyes reddened with emotion, bowing repeatedly: “Thanks, Miss Misae! Thanks, Mr. Nohara! I’m so lucky to meet such good people. Funny thing, I was just in this suit, told those delinquents ‘no trouble here,’ and they ran scared. Maybe Tokyo’s security has improved; even punks fear the police.”
Hiroshi Nohara stood by, couldn’t help chuckling inwardly at this, finger tapping chin lightly.
He looked at Bunta Takakura’s crisp yellow suit, the honest smiling eyes after removing sunglasses, mind flashing to anime scenes—his future son Shin with the crayon head always calling Bunta Takakura “Boss,” and under that seemingly honest appearance, an aura even punks feared.
He chuckled inwardly: Not Tokyo’s security; it’s your “future kindergarten principal” aura that’s overwhelming.
That formal yellow suit with your slightly plump build and inadvertent serious expression must make those punks think you’re a powerful yakuza big shot in the building; no way they’d linger.
But can’t say that to Bunta Takakura, or he’d scratch his head puzzled “Me, with that skill?”
Misae didn’t notice Hiroshi Nohara’s thoughts, still chatting with Bunta Takakura about the kindergarten: “Mr. Takakura, your kindergarten is in Kasukabe, right? This weekend if Hiroshi and I are free, we’ll bring dolls to see the kids, play Kumamon games with them. What do you think?”
Bunta Takakura nodded eagerly, smile brighter: “That’d be great! I’ll tell the kids ahead ‘Uncle and Aunt coming weekend to play with you, bringing Kumamon dolls!’ Let them look forward to it!”
Hiroshi Nohara watched them chatting warmly, his smile deepening.
He thought, perhaps this is life’s cutest part—unintentional kindness linking so many warm connections, and the man future son calls “Boss” now protecting those around him in his way; this hidden “deterrence” more effective than any lecture.
Bunta Takakura was smilingly discussing weekend kindergarten activity details with Misae when Nanako Sato was sketching promotional comics for him; suddenly sharp police sirens from below, approaching, stopping at the office building entrance.
Everyone tensed; Misae gripped Hiroshi Nohara’s hand instinctively; Bunta Takakura paused, puzzled at the window: “Police cars? Did those delinquents come back?”
Just then, hurried footsteps in the corridor, with “bang bang bang” knocking.
Hiroshi Nohara opened the door; four police officers in uniform stood there, leader Hinata Hon holding a notebook, expression serious: “Hello, we got a report of a gathering causing trouble here. Who called? Where are the troublemakers?”
Hinata Hon’s gaze swept the room, eyes alerting on yellow-suited Bunta Takakura, hand on waist intercom: “Sir, please show ID. Witnesses said suspicious man in yellow suit gathered here, argued with others—is that you?”
Bunta Takakura stunned, waved hands: “Officer, misunderstanding! I’m not suspicious; here on business. Delinquents did cause trouble earlier, but I chased them off. Now everyone’s just chatting normally, no arguments!”
“Chased them off?” Hinata Hon frowned skeptically, “You alone chased off a delinquent gang? Witnesses said five or six with sticks. Sure you’re not hiding anything?”
Misae stepped forward quickly: “Officer, it’s true! Mr. Takakura helped kindly. Delinquents demanded protection money, pushed our drawing stands; he stood up and reasoned with them, so they ran. We didn’t call police; probably someone from another floor saw and misreported.”
Hinata Hon still doubtful, turned to Hiroshi Nohara: “Sir, can you confirm her story?”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded, pointed to upright drawing stands on floor: “Officer, see, stands have light scratches from delinquents pushing them. Our manga club members can testify; Mr. Takakura didn’t cause trouble—he’s our benefactor. If not convinced, check building surveillance with us; it clearly shows what happened.”
Manga club members chimed in: “Yes, officer, Mr. Takakura is a good man!”
“We all testify; delinquents started the trouble!”
“Surveillance will show; check it!”
Hinata Hon saw sincere tones, looked at stands, softened, spoke into intercom for colleague to check surveillance.
Soon, intercom reported: “Officer Hinata, surveillance shows five-six suspicious persons causing trouble, pushing stands; then yellow-suited man intervened, they ran. No conflict on site—false alarm.”
Hinata Hon relaxed, bowed apology to Bunta Takakura: “Sorry, Mr. Takakura, we misunderstood. Please forgive us.”
Bunta Takakura waved: “No problem, officer; for everyone’s safety, I understand.”
Then, young officer Kobayashi Tsutsuki beside Hinata stared at Hiroshi Nohara, eyes widening, excited: “Y… You’re Mr. Hiroshi Nohara? Director of 《An Shizhi》 《Seven Samurai》 《Taste of Neon》?”
Hiroshi Nohara paused, smiled and nodded: “Yes, I’m Hiroshi Nohara. You know me?”
“Of course!” Kobayashi Tsutsuki’s voice trembled excitedly, pulled notebook from pocket, “Mr. Nohara, I’m your fan! Love your 《Late-night Diner》; cry buckets every time. And 《World of the Strange》’s ‘Rainy Night Ghost’ episode—sound and lens design genius! Can you sign?”
Hinata Hon realized, looked at Hiroshi Nohara surprised: “You’re Mr. Hiroshi Nohara! My daughter loves your 《Super Change Change Change》, nags me daily ‘Dad, let’s do Super Change Change Change.’ Didn’t expect to meet you!”
Other two officers crowded: “Mr. Nohara, love your 《Seven Samurai》; farmers fighting bullies so hot-blooded!” “Favorite is 《Taste of Neon》; after watching, ate natto in Ibaraki, teppanyaki in Osaka—delicious!”
Hiroshi Nohara unexpected fans here, smiled taking Kobayashi Tsutsuki’s notebook, signed: “Thanks for liking my work; happy it brings you joy.”
While police surrounded Hiroshi Nohara for signatures, other young people in building heard, rushed over.
A hoodie guy squeezed in, saw Hiroshi Nohara, shouted excitedly: “Mr. Nohara! Why here? This Future Manga Company? Creation site for 《Doraemon》 《Late-night Diner》 《Kumamon》 《Yu Yu Hakusho》?”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled nodded: “This is Future Manga Company; 《Doraemon》 Kumamon collab comic and 《Yu Yu Hakusho》 derivative shorts created here; some 《Late-night Diner》 inspiration from daily life here.”
“Awesome!”
The guy jumped excitedly, “Mr. Nohara, I’m your manga reader! Love your 《Yu Yu Hakusho》; Yusuke Urameshi’s hot-bloodedness, Kurama’s gentleness—so likable! Bought three sets of 《Doraemon》 Kumamon collab—one for me, two for friends!”
Another girl squeezed: “Mr. Nohara, love your 《Late-night Diner》 manga; every story so warm. Fought with mom once, read ‘Boss cooks ramen for lonely elder,’ apologized to her. Your comics teach so much.”
More youth crowded, surrounding Hiroshi Nohara and club tightly; phones out for photos, manga books for signatures.
“Mr. Nohara, photo together? Post to Moments, make friends jealous!”
“Mr. Nohara, love 《Kumamon》 manga; sign my book?”
“Mr. Nohara, new manga next? Can’t wait!”
Hiroshi Nohara patiently posed, signed, smiled answering: “Next, collaborating with Future Manga Company on 《Taste of Neon》 manga version, drawing stories from documentary filming; should meet everyone soon.”
“Awesome! I’ll buy!”
“Mr. Nohara, can I preorder?”
“Buying extras for family and friends!”
Hinata Hon watched lively scene, smiled to colleagues: “Didn’t expect Mr. Nohara so popular. His works not just entertaining, but warm and positive; no wonder so many fans.”
Kobayashi Tsutsuki watched interactions, sighed: “Yeah, Mr. Nohara talented and approachable, no director ego. I’ll learn from him, do my job well, protect everyone.”
Bunta Takakura aside, watched fan-surrounded Hiroshi Nohara, gratified smile.
Misae to him smiling: “Mr. Takakura, see, Hiroshi’s like this—whether filmmaking, documentaries, or manga, everyone loves it.”
Bunta Takakura nodded: “Mr. Nohara talented and warm; deserves the love. If my kindergarten has cultural events, I’ll invite him to tell stories to kids, let them feel art’s charm.”
Long after, fans dispersed; Hiroshi Nohara sent last batch off, sighed in relief, smiled: “Didn’t expect such excitement today; good it didn’t bother everyone.”
Hinata Hon approached, gave business card: “Mr. Nohara, my card. Contact anytime if trouble. Honor to meet you.”
Hiroshi Nohara took it smiling: “Thanks, Officer Sato. Will contact if needed.”
After police left, club members crowded excitedly discussing: “So thrilling! Police mistook Mr. Takakura; good it cleared!”
“Didn’t know Mr. Nohara so popular; so many fans!”
“Our club will boom; maybe film with Mr. Nohara someday!”
Hiroshi Nohara saw excited faces, looked at Misae and Bunta Takakura beside, warm smile.
Today’s unexpected mix-up introduced kind Bunta Takakura and let him feel fans’ enthusiasm.
……
After fans and police dispersed, the manga club room regained some calm.
Nanako Sato tidied scattered manuscripts, savoring excitement: “So many surrounded Mr. Nohara for signatures; barely squeezed in, like a star meet-and-greet!”
Hiroshi Nohara smiled at everyone: “Thanks all for helping clear misunderstanding, sorry for the scare. Tonight I’m treating to Ginza barbecue—as apology and celebration, how’s that?”
“Barbecue?!” Club youth eyes lit; Nanako Sato clapped excitedly: “Great! Heard ‘Black Wagyu Barbecue’ in Ginza famous, never splurged; today with Mr. Nohara!”
Misae smiled agreeing: “Heard their wagyu melts in mouth; perfect no-work day to relax.”
Hiroshi Nohara turned to awkward Bunta Takakura, mild: “Mr. Takakura, you helped big today; come too? Chat kindergarten stories, share kids’ good vibes.”
Bunta Takakura stunned, gripped clothes, flattered: “M… me too? Mr. Nohara you’re big director, with manga teachers and friends; I’m just ex-small photographer, now small principal—won’t intrude?”
“Don’t say that, Mr. Takakura.” Hiroshi Nohara patted shoulder sincerely, “Without you, club trouble harder. Friends no status divide; you coming makes us happier.”
Misae added smiling: “Mr. Takakura, no politeness. Tell us about kids; helps design Kumamon merch better for them.”
Seeing sincere eyes, Bunta Takakura warmed, awkwardness gone, replaced by emotion.
Never thought famous director Hiroshi Nohara would respect him, ex-small photographer now small principal, so humbly.
He nodded firmly: “Th… then I’ll accept gratefully! Thanks Mr. Nohara, Miss Misae!”
After tidying, all headed to Ginza’s “Black Wagyu Barbecue.”
Shop hidden in quiet alley, wooden facade with warm yellow lanterns; entering, rich barbecue aroma hit.
Simple cozy interior, tatami seats with soft cushions, walls with retro barbecue tool decor.
Staff saw group, welcomed warmly: “Mr. Nohara, long time no see! Usual spot?”
Hiroshi Nohara nodded smiling: “Yes, window big private room; many today, extra charcoal and utensils please.”
“Got it! Right away!” Staff led to room, instructed kitchen: “Best A5 wagyu, beef tongue, diaphragm ready; Mr. Nohara’s friends here!”
Seated, Hiroshi Nohara handed menu to Nanako Sato: “Nanako, you’re young, tastes match; order first, anything, no holding back.”
Nanako Sato took menu, eyes wide at options: “A5 wagyu, thick beef tongue, short ribs, diaphragm… want so much! Mr. Nohara, really unlimited? Their A5 wagyu pricey!”
Hiroshi Nohara waved smiling: “Order freely; all on me today. Much better off now; your happiness matters most.”
Bunta Takakura aside, sighed inwardly.
Heard Hiroshi Nohara earned well from works; seeing generosity without showiness, caring for all, admired talent and character.
Soon, staff brought full tray of meat.
Fresh red A5 wagyu with marbling, thick beef tongue glossy, diaphragm dotted green onions.
Hiroshi Nohara tonged wagyu to grill, charcoal sizzled, fat seeped, aroma intensified.
“Everyone, eat up; fresh-grilled wagyu tenderest.” Hiroshi Nohara gave first piece to Bunta Takakura, “Mr. Takakura, try; this shop’s wagyu unique.”
Bunta Takakura took with both hands, ate carefully, conquered by tenderness, exclaimed: “Delicious! Melts, faint milky; never had better beef!”
Youth ate happily; Nanako Sato held beef tongue and cola, mumbled: “Tongue so chewy! With sea salt, fresh till tongue melts! Mr. Nohara, eat too, don’t just grill!”
Misae handed tissues thoughtfully, smiling: “You eat more; ran around today, must be tired.”
Hiroshi Nohara took tissues, wiped oil, looked at lively scene, heart warm.
Grilling, listened to Bunta Takakura’s kindergarten tales: “Kid named Kotaro loves Kumamon, brings doll daily, says he’ll be Kumamon’s friend—so cute!”
“Then weekend dolls, Kotaro thrilled!” Misae smiled, agreed with Bunta Takakura to visit kids.
Members chatted lively, from manga creation to Hiroshi Nohara’s works, future proposals to life anecdotes.
Nanako Sato excitedly to Bunta Takakura: “Mr. Takakura, once kindergarten promo comic done, first to you; kids will love!”
Bunta Takakura thanked: “So grateful! With your comics, kids love kindergarten more; can’t wait!”
Unknowingly, several trays emptied, bellies full.
Nanako Sato slumped on cushion, patted belly: “Never so stuffed; can’t walk! Mr. Nohara, thanks so much—great barbecue and warmth.”
Others agreed: “Yeah Mr. Nohara, so happy today!”
“We’ll create well, not let you down!”
Bunta Takakura stood, deep bow to Hiroshi Nohara: “Mr. Nohara, deepest thanks. Delicious barbecue, such respect. Anytime need help—kindergarten promo or else—call me!”
Hiroshi Nohara supported him: “Too polite, Mr. Takakura. Friends help each other; stay in touch, chat more.”
Banquet lasted late; reluctant goodbyes. Hiroshi Nohara drove Misae home; she leaned on shoulder smiling: “So happy today; everyone enjoyed, I satisfied.”
Hiroshi Nohara held her hand gently: “Your happiness, everyone’s—I’m content. More such gatherings ahead.”
Car cruised Ginza night, streetlights through window warming them, cozy and beautiful.
Hiroshi Nohara watched sleeping Misae, thought: now career success, sincere friends, loved one—true precious happiness.
