The last time I came to Edo it was raining.
He was holding an umbrella, and his hands holding the ribs were white and transparent.
It's the same as when I first came here.
It doesn't seem to rain very often in Edo.
So for this rain, who is the sky crying for?
A hand fell on his shoulder, and the familiar warmth made him want to cry.
"Brother, let's go home."
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Don't be fooled by the artistic copywriting, this is actually a joyful article.
Happy eating!