　At the language school I attend, we have small class sizes, with only about twenty people in one classroom. This allows for plenty of participation during lessons. There are also efforts to make the classes interactive, such as allocating time for discussing questions with classmates, checking textbook problems together beforehand, and sharing summaries of upcoming student essays.

　On the first day of class, seating arrangements naturally became everyone's regular spots, and those who often participated in discussions were easily identifiable. I happened to sit behind Miwako, who, like me, actively participated in class discussions and had a positive and outgoing personality, which I admired. She always wore mature and clean-looking clothes, and her handbag, which she carried her textbooks in, looked high-end.

　One Friday after class, Miwako invited me to join her and another classmate, Yua, at a izakaya. "We're going to an izakaya, would you like to come, too?" she asked.

　"Yeah, sure. Are we going now?" I replied.

　"Yeah, we usually go there after classes. You should join us," Miwako said as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

　Yua always hung out with Miwako and was a distinctive figure with her thick, black curly hair and prominent eyebrows, but her large eyes and slender frame gave her a cute charm reminiscent of a fawn. She had a high-pitched voice like an anime character, which added to her cuteness.

　Although we often ended up in the same discussion groups during class, Miwako and I always conversed with each other, while Yua listened, so we hadn't really spoken to each other. Knowing that Yua also welcomed my presence made me happy.

　We packed our heavy textbooks into our bags and left the building together. Our language school was located in Shinjuku. Neon signs of various patterns from the nightlife and love hotel district filled the gaps in the cityscape, creating a vibrant atmosphere. However, due to the overhead lights, it was difficult to see the faces of the people passing by, who were a mix of those coming from the glamorous streets and those heading towards them.

　I followed Miwako and Yua, making sure not to lose sight of them. We arrived at the entrance of a building, where a chain izakaya was located, indicated by a glowing sign. Despite attending school in Shinjuku, I had never entered a store inside a building before, as I had only commuted between the school and my grandmother's house in Tokyo.

　Nervously, I followed Miwako and Yua down the stairs leading to the basement of the building. Upon reaching the end of the stairs, we entered the izakaya, stepping into what felt like a thick mass of air filled with the smell of smoke and oil.

　Even though winter was approaching, the humidity inside the restaurant was high, creating a heavy feeling in the lungs, as the smell of cooking oil, smoke, body heat, and cigarette smoke all mingled together, clinging to the skin. As far as the eye could see from the entrance, each private table was packed with people, and the atmosphere inside the restaurant was very lively.

　It was my first time entering an izakaya without parents.