You breathe in the fresh Sotenbori air. You revel in the absence of the smoggy taste that always stuck in the back of your throat; what you'd considered the signature Tokyo experience.

You'd moved to Tokyo for your studies, but you soon felt homesick for the country life you'd always had growing up.

You'd rushed home the second you'd finished with your last final exam and felt a thrill as you'd hauled your boxed possessions into the moving van.

You turned to the towering building that had been your home for the past four years, and felt a small tug in your chest despite yourself.

It had been a sad home, but it had been home nonetheless, and you felt like it'd always have a place in your heart.

Still, it wasn't the time to focus on the past, when you were headed towards a new future.

You started your car and braced yourself for the long drive that was ahead of you.

You'd arrived a couple of minutes before your stuff, so you took the opportunity to pry open the front door to your new home.

It was a modest, one bedroom, one bathroom house. But it was your house. The thought made you giddy.

That night you slept incredibly, exhausted from the long drive and sore from carrying heavy boxes all day.

Most of your stuff was still boxed up, you'd been too tired to do more than tip the driver and help him carry everything inside.

After that, you were too tired to even order dinner, instead crawling into bed. You'd only had time to think excitedly about exploring your new home town in the morning before you succumbed to a dreamless sleep.

One thing you hadn't considered was how your fellow residents would feel about you. You'd always heard that the people of Osaka were open and friendly, and you'd experienced the community feeling of growing up in a small town first-hand.

And while it's true that the people of Sotenbori are friendly, it's only to their fellow countrymen.

After years of adjusting to Tokyo Japanese to avoid the poorly disguised looks of disgust at your country accent, you'd finally gotten the dialect down.

But now you couldn't help but notice how the friendly smiles faded the second they heard the monotone of your Tokyo accent.

You've done your best to pick up phrases, but it's slow going.

In the middle of your moping, you notice an old woman drop her shopping bag. Abandoning your cafe table, you practically fly out of your seat in your haste to help her pick it up.

She smiles widely as you hand her back the plastic bag and remarks on what a kind young lady you are.

"I haven't seen your face here before. You're new, aren't you?"
You nod an affirmation, "I just moved here recently from Tokyo."
Her face falls, "A word of advice: the people here are as stubborn as they are friendly. We don't like change and take a while to warm up to new residents. We especially don't take kindly to city folk. "

You remember how once upon a time you too had seen people from the city as stuck up and cold.

"My suggestion?" She continues, "get a customer service job. It'll help you brush up on your dialect and pay the bills. I'm sure the move hasn't been light on your wallet." She gives you a once over, "You have potential, I'm sure you'll clean up nice."

You wince a bit at the backhanded compliment, but remain silent.

"You ever considered working in a cabaret?"

You shake your head, "I never thought I'd be pretty enough. Besides, don't the customers get a bit... grabby with the workers?"

"Not in Sunshine. I'll speak to the owner about hiring you. He's low on girls. And I think he's sweet on me too, so I'm sure he'll listen," she winks. "It's on the far end of town, over Bishamon bridge, opposite the shrine. You should swing by with your resume a bit later."

You smile at the purple haired saviour, feeling welcome for the first time since you've moved here.

You return to the coffee you'd been nursing, feeling content.