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Maybe Maruya still cared a little about looking cute. He couldn’t find any other way to explain this new fixation.
The idea had gotten into his head one morning while greeting Riko at reception. While still on more than rocky terms after their breakup, they had formed a tentative truce. Albeit, one with passive-aggressive smiles and persistent jabs, but a truce nonetheless.
Every morning she would smile innocently, greeting Maruya with quick pleasantries and ramblings about her new boyfriend. While he would give her begrudging grins, she would swoon over her tender amusement park dates, sentimental café rendezvous and intimate Purikura photos.
He could still remember how that last bit had snagged in his mind, resurfacing long-gone memories of high school dates and drunk nightouts with friends. Probably dozens of Purikura were stashed away in a box in his parents’ house, filled with photos of Maruya and his ex-girlfriends. Or groups of guys and girls too inebriated to function. He knew a Purikura he had taken with Riko was still tucked away somewhere underneath his bed.
The itch to go out and take one hadn’t left his mind since. During his breaks at work, he’d scroll absentmindedly on his phone, searching for the latest machines, lingering on photos of girls with cutely widened eyes and clear skin. He could almost imagine himself in their places, charming the camera with a mellow smile. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d memorized all of the Purikura machines on the market, down to where each one was in his neighbourhood.
When Sanada had let him know she would be returning to Yayoi Beer for the summer, his excitement for Purikura had only grown stronger. They were still dating; sustaining their relationship through phone calls disrupted by time zones and promises exchanged over text. It had been a little under a year since she had left for America, but he could still remember that day he had thought she was leaving forever. Her timid smile, the way she had called him cute. He wanted to hear her say that to him again—more than anything. If taking Purikura was what it would take, he was willing to do it.
Maruya rolled out his chair by an inch, attempting a casual glance around the office. Sanada was sitting at her desk, typing away on her laptop with perfect posture. He couldn’t help but smile fondly. Seeing her so close felt surreal. After months of longing, she was finally only a few desks away rather than an entire ocean.
He cleared his throat.
“Sanada-san, this Saturday—”
“Maruya-san, it’s currently work hours,” she briskly cut him off.
“Right, I just…”
He pulled out his phone and fidgeted with it against his lap. After a moment’s deliberation, he rolled over and opened a Purikura website with habitual ease.
“I was thinking we could go take some Purikura,” he gestured to the screen.
She stared at his phone with a blank gaze. The longer she stared, the more the other employees glanced their way. Maruya uncomfortably lowered his hand.
“I've never…” Sanada finally murmured.
"You've never taken Purikura before?"
"No. I've never had a reason to,” she said sheepishly.
He hummed in response, nodding like he was letting the words simmer in his mind. He held back a smile and made a mental note to text her later. His heart fluttered as he thought of which gaming center to stop by.
Suddenly, Ichinose jumped up from his seat, leaning forward on his desk.
"Sanada-san! You've never taken Purikura!? We need to go! All together, the four of us!" he cried, excitedly pointing between himself, Maruya, Kaburagi and Sanada.
Maruya gripped his phone tightly and tapped it once, twice, then a few more times on his chest. “Aren’t we a bit too old for that now?”
Sanada sent him an odd glance and Maruya prayed she wouldn’t say a word.
“Nonsense! No one’s too old to have fun! Right, Kaburagi-san?” Ichinose turned to him for approval.
Kaburagi, the oldest amongst the four and arguably the worst person to ask, nodded eagerly. Of course, he would nod. Maruya cursed himself.
-
They all gathered that evening at the local shopping center; Sanada being the first to arrive and Kaburagi last. Although the outing was outside of work hours, all four came dressed in their regular office attire. The group had never hung out together in a non-professional setting and it showed in their squared suit shoulders and polite smiles.
Kaburagi and Ichinose chattered together brightly and Maruya eyed Sanada with a sigh. She wasn’t going to say a word while they were around. He hesitantly put on a lopsided smile and nudged her by the shoulder.
“You excited?” he asked.
Sanada stared at him blankly. Her round doe eyes sent a flutter of butterflies through his stomach.
“Yes, I am,” she replied curtly.
Kaburagi turned to them with a grin. “Why wouldn’t she be? I’ve always wanted to take Purikura with you, Maruya!”
Maruya laughed tersely.
With the arcade on the mall's third floor, they clumsily lined single file from elevator to elevator. They were an odd grouping in the shopping center, filing around like a squadron of lawyers. Maruya noticed a group of high school students eyeing them questioningly as they walked by.
As they entered the arcade, the center flickered with neon lights and blasted the last big hit on the charts. He was 99% sure the last song had been playing on repeat for the past ten minutes, but every time he pointed out the hundredth chorus, Kaburagi and Ichinose brushed him aside. Teenagers milled about, laughing with their friends and parents followed their kids as they pointed excitedly at the plushies in the crane machines.
The Purikura corner was stashed away in the far back of the store, shining with colour and splendour. Sparkling golds melted into rolling reds, pastel blues swatching against pretty pinks. The overhead lights reflected sparkles across the plastic of the machines and gleamed against the rosy epoxy floor.
Kaburagi glanced around uncomfortably. He was really the biggest eyesore in the group. The Purikura corner consisted of more teenage girls than any other part of the arcade. Ichinose seemed to sense his discomfort and nudged him closer to Sanada. Maruya tensed at his proximity and inched closer to Sanada's side.
Ichinose rushed over to one of the machines and pointed at it excitedly. It seemed to be one of the newer models in the store, evidenced by the crowds that gathered along the sides of the curtains and into the entrance. He waved his arms around, eagerly raving about the machine and the reviews for it online. The photo booth was dressed in a proud pink, the image of a girl pouting cutely adorning the curtain.
Kaburagi pulled out his wallet—he must've felt responsible being the oldest there—and frowned when all that came out were wads of folded bills and his debit card. He immediately looked up at everyone in a panic.
“Sorry, I don't have any change. I'll go switch out—”
Maruya stepped forward and pulled out his wallet, easily slipping out a ¥500 coin. He was embarrassed to admit that he had exchanged his bills for coins in advance. His stomach flipped thinking that he might have looked forward to Purikura more than Ichinose.
At their turn, he slid the coin into the machine’s slot and clumsily tapped through the opening screen. After finishing the introduction, the four of them squished themselves into the booth, placing down their bags and briefcases. Maruya went forward to navigate the screen again before Ichinose leaned in and started expertly speeding through the settings. Ichinose wasn’t even hiding his clear experience. Maruya didn’t understand when and how he could’ve gotten so skilled. As if reading his mind, Ichinose began to speak.
“I go out for Purikura all the time with my friend. I had to beg for so long before she actually agreed to take some with me. She really likes it now. We have a mini photo album!”
“That’s nice,” Maruya replied stiffly.
“Oh, what’s cool about this machine is its full-body photo option. Most Purikura only operate from the waist up,” Ichinose continued, changing the subject. He tapped away on the screen, mumbling to Kaburagi every few moments as the two of them considered the different backgrounds and templates.
Maruya turned to Sanada and gave her a small smile. She returned his gaze and just as he opened his mouth to speak, Ichinose abruptly took a step back and signalled to the group.
“It’s taking the pictures!”
Maruya watched as instructions washed over the screen and Kaburagi and Ichinose hurriedly bunched together, trying to fit into the display. He cringed as Kaburagi’s elbow jammed into his chest and Ichinose’s legs knocked against his own. Sanada, unlike the others, didn’t hurry to get into the frame, elegantly standing on her tiptoes in the back.
Maruya grimaced. All he had wanted was a romantic Purikura date with Sanada. Was that too much to ask for? What got him here crowded into a small space with Kaburagi and Ichinose of all people?
A squeaking voice filtered out from the machine’s speakers, instructing them through poses, photo by photo. While Maruya had years of playing up his looks backing him up, he found himself flustered now that he was affronted with a camera and in the presence of Sanada, Ichinose and Kaburagi. He couldn’t take himself seriously, pouting with a peace sign while his co-workers and girlfriend did the same. He glanced at Sanada and was relieved to find her equally troubled. Her posing was small and tentative, engulfed by the overzealous movements of Ichinose and Kaburagi.
As the counter for the final photo ticked down—a full body shot—Maruya looked down at Sanada, their shoulders pressed against each other. Taking a leap, he silently slid their palms together, his heart flying in his chest. Sanada’s eyes met his and Maruya vaguely registered the sound of the shutter snapping.
Filing out of the photo-taking zone, Maruya and Sanada decided to leave it to Ichinose and Kaburagi to decorate the photos. The doodling area was too small for the four of them to possibly fit inside and Maruya had gladly taken an excuse to have a reprieve from the two.
Waiting outside the booth, Maruya sidled up next to Sanada. He absentmindedly knocked a tune against his legs, rapping his knuckles on his pants before speaking up.
“How was that? Your first time taking Purikura,” he asked.
“It was fun,” she said.
“It’s nice to finally be alone, huh?” Maruya smiled.
“It is.”
He knew that a year ago he might have been perturbed by her short responses, but now he felt his face warm thinking about the feelings contained within her compact words.
Before he knew it, Ichinose and Kaburagi were surging towards them, Ichinose waving the printed Purikura in hand. The four of them grouped together in a circle, assembling themselves over the photos in his palms. Maruya couldn’t help an exasperated laugh as he took in the chaos of each shot. Sanada had barely smiled, while Ichinose had been the complete opposite. Kaburagi had tried way too hard to pose with Maruya while Maruya looked like he had been desperately trying to give him the hint.
“Ichinose, you’re not even in frame here,” Maruya ragged, pointing at a photo. Ichinose was so close to the camera that only his eye had made it into the frame.
“Oops, my bad!” he giggled easily. “Maruya-san, your eye looks like it’s melting off here,” Ichinose pointed out next, gesturing at a photo where the filter had made Maruya’s skin drip like honey.
Maruya choked out a laugh. Sanada smiled quietly next to him and Kaburagi chuckled by Ichinose. Despite the missed out date, Maruya couldn’t help but feel like this Purikura had been worth it.
As they finished their perusal, Ichinose walked over to a table of scissors, snipping the photo strip into four pieces for each of them. He passed them out blindly, saying he would send the digital copies later on LINE. Maruya struggled to pay attention as he watched Sanada take her piece of the Purikura—the last photo. Sanada immediately slipped it into the photo holder of her wallet and he leaned over with a grin.
“Aw, I didn't know you were the sentimental type,” he teased.
“You looked cute,” she stated simply.
His eyes widened and his heart lurched in his chest. He couldn’t help but smile down at the ground shyly, his stomach twisting in waves, knotting together and untying itself.
“You think so?”
“I’ve always thought so.”
-
His phone pinged later that night as he was settling into bed. He cringed in the dark, turning his phone on drowsily. After squinting blindly for a full minute—God he was getting old—he finally acknowledged the LINE message grinning at him. Ichinose had sent the digital copies of the Purikura to their group chat. The photos had been followed by a string of emojis and LINE stickers that Maruya didn’t bother interpreting.
He tapped the last photo of the bunch and zoomed into the small forms of him and Sanada in the back. She had said he looked cute. The sight of them staring so tenderly at each other had him kicking his feet in his sheets. He clutched his phone by his heart and beamed in the dark.
He needed to LINE Sanada later tonight. He wouldn’t mind a round two in the gaming center.