One Night in Osaka

All characters engaged in sexual activity are over the age of eighteen. For genre clarity, this story would be classified as "Erotic Couplings" if not for the fantastical elements present.

While Osaka and its famous Dotonbori district are very real places in Japan, the events, places of business, characters, and concepts presented in this story are my creations alone, and entirely fictional; they are not intended to represent anyone or anything real, so any resemblance in that regard is entirely coincidental.

It's been a bit since my last story; calling the latter half of 2018 "a crazy time in my life" would be a gross understatement, but things are starting to settle down now, so I should have more regular output going forward. I deeply appreciate your support and patience in that regard.

I will also be participating in next month's "Geek Pride" story event on Literotica with at least one new tale, possibly two if time and inspiration allows.

If you have an opinion on this story, good or bad, I'd love to hear from you in the comments. The more feedback I get from readers about what's working and what doesn't, the faster I can grow and improve as a writer. Thank you in advance for your help in that regard.

And now... ON WITH THE SHOW!

ONE NIGHT IN OSAKA

by MisterWildCard

CHAPTER ONE: DONOVAN -- I'M IN AN OSAKA STATE OF MIND

The narrow backstreets of Osaka pulled at Donovan Pierce like the current of a small river, and he was utterly compelled to drift "downstream" and explore. But first, he had to take care of a more immediate matter.

Standing in front of the large hotel, he turned to the bellhop, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember half-forgotten Japanese phrases. "Ano... sumimasen..." (Um... pardon me...) "Eigo o hanase-masuka?" (Do you speak English?)

The older fellow brushed a bit of lint off his uniformed shoulder, and flashed Donovan a wide grin. "Yes, I do. How may I help you today, sir?"

Donovan ran a hand through his dark hair in relief. "Thank god. I don't know very much nihongo beyond that."

"Really?" The bellhop raised an eyebrow. "Your accent is very good."

"Must be from watching too much Japanese TV, but thank you." Donovan glanced down at the Bellhop's chest, but didn't see a nametag. "I'm Donovan Pierce, I'll be staying here a couple days. Your accent is flawless, by the way." Donovan cleared his throat. "But yes, I do need help. I'm starving. I've just come from a long flight with bad airline food, and more than anything, I want to find a good place to grab an early dinner. Any suggestions?"

The Japanese man looked around, tapping one gloved fingertip to his lips. "Very kind of you, and you can just call me 'Shibata-san', sir. And yes, I'm sure I can assist with that. Let's see." He pointed to the right. "There's a Conbini, sorry, a Convenience Store, just down that way, if you want to grab some light snacks and bring them back to your room." Seeing Donovan's slight frown, he turned to point the opposite direction. "Or if you'd like something more filling, I can suggest a good ramen restaurant, three blocks down that street. It's called 'Koi-Koi Ramen', and it'll be on the left side, with a sign of a golden fish and white fish swimming together. I suggest you order the 'koi-koi special', it's the best thing on the menu, a big bowl of noodles and such."

"That sounds perfect, thank you Shibata-san." Donovan glanced down in the direction in question, then back to Shibata. "Any nice sights to see around here? My tour group won't start for a couple of days, so I'm just killing time and recovering from jet-lag."

Shibata's gaze flickered across Donovan's features. "You're a college student, I'm guessing? By the time you're done with your ramen, the sun will be down and the Dotonbori district will be coming alive. Lots of bars and stores, and the view from Ebisu Bridge is very nice."

"Graduated a year ago, actually." Donovan's jaw clenched. "This trip is a...delayed graduation present from my parents — here on my own, just exploring and looking for good food. Still, Dotonbori sounds like it could be fun."

"When you're done at Koi-Koi, come back here and I'll help you get a taxi. It's a little too far to walk, especially in this summer heat, but the taxi ride will be short and inexpensive. I'll even get a print-out of the hotel's address for you, so you can give that to another taxi later when you need to come back." Shibata gave a short bow.

"That's... very thorough of you." Donovan closed his eyes for a moment, before taking a deep breath and opening them again to meet the bellhop's gaze. "I'm sorry, I just got off a long flight, and I'm forgetting my manners." After a moment's thought, he bowed low, his eyes down. "Shibata-san, domo arigato gozaimashita." (Mister Shibata, thank you very much for what you have done for me.) He looked back up, and Shibata's smile seemed a little warmer.

"I appreciate that, Pierce-san. And you're very welcome — but you've done nothing that needs an apology." Behind them, the automatic doors slid open, and an elderly man and woman headed towards Shibata, the man hobbling slowly with a cane. Shibata glanced in their direction, and then back to Donovan. "If you'll excuse me, I'll need to help these guests. But I hope you have an excellent dinner, and I'll get everything ready for your cab ride later tonight." He gave Donovan another short bow, and then turned towards the elderly newcomers.

Donovan took his cue, and headed in the direction of Koi-Koi Ramen. Looking back over his shoulder at the bellhop, he wondered for a moment if Shibata was getting kickbacks from the local businesses he'd suggested... and then immediately dismissed that thought as he rubbed at his forehead with his fingertips. "Not everyone's like Mom and Dad, Donovan," he mumbled to himself. "Not everyone's an asshole." He left the hotel behind, and continued onward.

It seemed wrong to call the narrow road he was on a "street" — to his eye, it was barely wide enough to qualify as an alleyway. But homes and businesses had their front doors right off this avenue, and it was clearly a well-kept and cleaned area. A young man was standing out in front of one house, washing his small and meticulously parked car with a bucket in one hand and a sponge in the other. Just past him, what looked to be a long-married couple were out in front of an open store-front, chatting amiably with each other as they arranged some new merchandise in the store's street-facing shelves. A large German Shepherd dog, its tongue lolling as it watched Donovan with interest, towed a tiny but well-dressed teenaged girl in Donovan's direction. As they drew close, he met the dog's alert gaze, and smiled. "Good boy," he murmured, and the handsome canine's tail wagged vigorously in response. The dog's owner took no notice of any of this, and they passed by him a moment later.

Donovan let his eyes wander to and fro, resuming his search for ramen, but also taking in all the odd little details he might encounter along the way. He marveled at the vibrant color of a large clump of emerald ivy along one stretch of wall, and smiled in amusement at a pair of small children sitting on another porch. They had their heads bowed over one of them unboxing what looked to be a new toy, a foot-tall robot action figure he dimly recognized from a recent article online. The scene reminded him of similar times from his own childhood, rare and fleeting moments of happiness. He looked away, and moved on.

A couple of minutes later, he stood in front of a sign bearing two fish, one white, one gold, and he was just literate enough in Japanese to sound out the sign's name of "Koi-Koi Ramen". Inside were half a dozen people sitting at a long counter, shoveling curly clumps of noodles into their mouths, or picking up the entire bowl with both hands to drink deep from the broth. He stepped around the odd vending machine in the foyer, and headed for an open seat, of which there were several. A grizzled man behind the counter walked up to his seat, and gave him a nod while calling out a traditional welcome of "Irrashaimase!", before holding out an open hand.

Donovan sat down, and looked around the space. The smell of soup broth and boiling noodle water filled his nose, and he felt his shoulders relax and his stomach unclench. He appeared to be the only westerner in there, and the other patrons looked to be too involved in their own ramen bowls to pay him any mind. The decor was simple, the floors clean, and a few black-and-white photographs of what Donovan guessed was nearby beachfronts lined the walls. Donovan smiled, immediately enjoying being inside this little place.

"Oi." Donovan turned at the deep voice, and realized the ramen chef was still standing there with one hand outstretched. "Tikketo."

Donovan blinked, not recognizing this word from his limited language study. He nervously offered the phrase "Eigo o hanasemasuka?" for the second time that night, suspecting that he'd be saying that "Do you speak English?" phrase a million more times in the next week alone.

The chef shook his head, and repeated his request, a little louder this time. "TIKKETO."

Another customer, a young man in a suit several seats down, openly snickered. "Gaijin wa baka da ne?" Donovan's vocabulary was strong enough to translate that, at least — (This foreigner's an idiot, eh?) — and Donovan felt his stomach tighten again, breathing deep to try and calm himself. "I'm sorry, I should just go..."

The chef barked out some sort of scolding comment to the other fellow that Donovan didn't catch, and then turned to call to someone in the back. "Megumi-chan!"

A pretty young Japanese woman in her mid-twenties stepped out from behind a black curtain. The chef pointed her towards Donovan, and they rattled off a rapid-fire exchange of words. She turned and flashed Donovan a smile. "You don't speak Japanese?" Her accent was a little on the thick side, but Donovan understood her without any problem. She had her dark hair clipped in a very short and utilitarian cut, and she wore a wrap-around jacket identical to the one that the chef wore.

With a shrug and a small blush, Donovan held up one hand, his thumb and index finger pinched together. "Sukoshi." He responded. (A little.)

She looked him up and down. "You've never been to Japan before? You don't know about ticket?"

Donovan blinked, and felt a small "eureka" moment as something clicked into place. "Ticket? Oh, that's what 'Tikketo' meant! Sorry, no, this is all new for me."

Megumi came around the counter and moved to the foyer, gesturing for her American customer to follow. "When you go into restaurant, you choose food on machine." She pointed to the vending machine, and now that Donovan looked closely, he could see that instead of cans of soft drinks or other items, each plastic button bore a picture of a food item. "What did you want to eat?"

"Shibata-san at the hotel said that the 'Koi-Koi Special' was really good...?" She was standing very close, so he wrestled his eyes from her searching gaze, and tried to decipher the various signs on the machine.

"I know Shibata-san, he's very nice man who eats here often, and he is right." She pressed one of the buttons for him that showed a large bowl of soup, and the machine's small screen lit up with the special's name and price. "Did you want anything else? A drink?" When he shook his head, she pointed to the card reader. "If you use credit card, put there."

Reaching into his wallet, Donovan felt his stomach's knot tighten further. Drawing out the pre-paid card he'd been given by his parents, he ran it through the reader... and breathed a sigh of relief when everything was approved moments later. The machine spat out a small slip of paper, which Megumi retrieved and held up. "This is ticket that Hayashi-san meant. Sorry for misunderstanding. I take ticket for you."

She returned to her spot beside the chef as Donovan took his seat anew, and Megumi fired off a rapid-fire question to her boss, who only shrugged in return. "I'll make your ramen today," she said with a smile. Donovan watched with great interest as she assembled a bowl full of delicious noodles, pork slices, bean sprouts, bamboo shoots, and other fabulous-smelling ingredients, whispering notes for himself into his smartphone's recording app regarding how she went about each step. A couple minutes later, she carefully placed the bowl in front of him. "I gave you extra pork, no charge. I hope you like it."

An older man sitting to Donovan's right asked Megumi a question, of which he only caught the words "Amerikajin" (American) and "kawaii" (cute). She responded by looking sidelong into Donovan's eyes, and mimiced his earlier pinched-fingers gesture. "Sukoshi." Her face broke into a warm smile, and she turned fully to him while giving a quick wink. "Best to eat while still hot."

"Megumi-san, arigato." (Thank you.) Donovan grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the paper wrapper set in front of him, and ladled a large spoonful of dark brown broth between his lips. Despite the August heat, the hot soup actually made him feel a little cooler overall, and a fascinating flavor seeped into his tongue. The base was definitely pork, but there were elements of soy, mushrooms, and what he swore was tuna. It was a delicious and complex flavor, and he could imagine himself just sipping at a mug of the broth alone like a cup of morning coffee. His stomach finally unwound again, and he felt a real sense of contentment flow through him, releasing tension behind his eyes that he hadn't realized his body had been holding onto.

As he sifted through the noodle bowl with his chopsticks, he found half a dozen small slices of pork tenderloin, and a few small dumplings as well, each about half the size of a golf ball. He picked one up between his chopstick tips, and held it up, surprised to discover that his lovely guide was still standing there, watching him eat. "Megumi-san, what's inside these?"

She was putting down a fresh table setting at the empty seat to his left, but her eyes never left his. "That's the Koi-Koi special dumpling. Take a bite, tell me what you taste. If you're right, you can have another dumpling for free. I promise it's delicious." The man to Donovan's right gave a small snorting laugh, and she gave him a laughing rebuke of "Urusai na, ojisan." (Hush, old man.)

He hesitated, worried for a moment that the dumpling might be filled with hot peppers or some other cruel trick, but immediately dismissed that line of thought. She'd been nothing but kind and helpful to him, so why would she bother to suddenly prank him now? He nibbled first at the chewy outer skin, and then took a proper bite out of the dumpling's side. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then swallowed and turned back to Megumi. "Oishii yo." (It's very delicious.) "I'm Donovan, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Donovan-san." She gestured towards his bowl, and then returned to organizing items below the counter as she watched him. "So... what do you think was inside?"

Glancing down at the remaining half of the dumpling held in his chopsticks, Donovan pursed his lips in thought. "Mostly minced pork, but I think I also tasted a little bit of tuna fish, definitely some garlic, a tiny bit of ginger, and I *think* some finely-chopped bits of matsutake mushrooms. I've only had those once before, so I'm not sure about that."

Her brown eyes widened in surprise. "Very good, that exactly right!" She turned around for a moment, and returned with another dumpling in a ladle, which she dropped into Donovan's bowl. "A deal is a deal, ne?"

A customer on the far side of the counter chimed in with a long question, which the chef ignored and Megumi just laughed at. Donovan was by no means sure, but it sounded like something along the lines of "Hey, why does the white kid get a free dumpling, don't I get any love around here?" The tone was jovial and the man was smiling as he said it, so Donovan decided to pay it no mind. His earlier suit-wearing critic, on the other hand, took another long pull from his beer bottle, and fixed Donovan with a hostile stare. Donovan looked back down at his bowl, and finished eating in silence, trying not to let that sour look ruin his delicious meal.

A few minutes later, Donovan picked up the bowl, and drank down the last dregs of the amazing broth, almost shivering in gustatorial delight as he let out a contented sigh. "You really liked the bowl I made for you?" He looked up, and Megumi was standing there again, flashing another lovely smile.

"I really did. Thank you. Food like this is half the reason I came to Japan."

She looked away for a moment, biting down on her lip, and the looked back to him with a look of resolve. "I finish work here soon. Two hours. If you come back then I could like..." She paused, and closed her eyes in concentration. "I mean, I WOULD like to buy you drink. In return, you would help me practice English, I know it's not so good. I help you with Japanese words, too. Sound good?"

Donovan's mouth hung open, unable to make a sound. Was this woman flirting with him? That couldn't possibly be right, there's no way she could be so interested in him so quickly... probably best not to read too much into it. He wouldn't be in Osaka for much longer anyway, so it's not as if anything could come of it even if she *was* flirting. "I'm... I'm sorry. I had plans for later, in Dotonbori. But your English is pretty good, much better than my Japanese. You don't really need my help. But thank you for offering."

As he said those words, her face visibly fell into a sad expression, and Donovan suddenly felt like a massive asshole. Standing up abruptly, he bowed. "Thank you for the meal. It was wonderful. I should go."

Patting his pockets to make sure he still had his phone and his wallet, and adjusting the collar on his golf shirt, he turned and made his way towards the door... and halfway there, as he passed the man who sneered at him earlier, he heard that man say one more parting insult: "Do-inpo gaijin." (Limp-dicked foreigner.)

Donovan stopped dead in his tracks, and his hands balled into tight fists as he turned and stared into the back of the man's head with an unwavering gaze. His voice was very cold. "Jibun, ekagen ni sen to shibaku de." (If you don't stop talking crap, something very bad is going to happen.)

Every conversation inside Koi-Koi Ramen went completely silent. The only sound remaining was the boiling water of the noodle pot. The young businessman turned around, his face hanging in shock, completely unsure what to do next.

Donovan didn't blink, staring hard into the man's eyes and lifting his chin in unspoken challenge. After a long moment, the seated fellow blinked, swallowed, and looked away in defeat. "...Gomen." (...Sorry.)

Resisting the urge to run as far away from this place as possible, Donovan kept his stare up for a moment longer, then nodded and turned away towards the door. He'd made it ten steps outside and back towards his hotel when he heard a flurry of footsteps behind him. "Donovan-san!" It was Megumi. "Chotto! Chotto matte!" (Wait! Wait a second!)

Donovan turned to face her, but put his hands behind his back, to hide that they were shaking. "I'm sorry for causing trouble for you, Megumi-san."

She shook her head. "That man deserve it, he thought he could say rude things you wouldn't understand. But you used Osaka local words! You speak more than I thought!"

Donovan cracked a short-lived smile, thinking back to Kawaguchi-Sensei back at college. "My Japanese professor was from Osaka, she taught us a little of the dialect. Again, I'm very sorry for this trouble."