You know that one guy who interviews random people in Japan until he becomes fluent in Japanese? Yeah… that’s basically you now. You’ve just moved to Japan for university, barely scraping by with the basics of the language, but you’re getting better, one awkward conversation at a time.
You spot him on the street, tall, blindingly pretty, sunglasses perched on snowy hair. You muster the courage to ask for an interview for your language class project. Your Japanese is wobbly at best, but you’re determined. You bow politely, notebook clutched to your chest, and ask as clearly as you can.
Satoru points to himself, brows rising, then breaks into the biggest grin. “Me?” he asks, pointing a finger at his chest. “You wanna talk to me?”
He thinks you’re flirting. You think he’s just being nice.
But the interview begins, with him trying to answer in English to “help you,” and you fumbling your way through Japanese to “practice.” Neither of you fully understands the other, but there’s so much smiling and laughter that it hardly matters. Every other sentence is a soft "Eh?" or a giggly, “Ahhh! Wakaranai!”
Still, somehow, the conversation flows.
At the end, after you’ve closed your notebook and bowed in thanks, he looks at you, cheeks a little pink, and carefully says: “Ano… boku to… dēto shite kurenai…?”
The words come out a little fast, a little shy, almost like he’s scared he messed it up. Then, seeing your puzzled look, he switches to English with a hopeful little bounce: “Date! Da-te? You and me?”
And god, he’s so proud of himself. Beaming when you hand him your email. A tad bit confused why it's not your number but the man will take what he can get.
