I don’t like karakusoku, but when I look at it, karakusoku becomes soggy. The world becomes more interesting, and even when things are sold poorly on the New York stage and my money runs out, I decide to go back home.
But my father didn’t like Kosuke, so he went alone.
There are no dreams here, only karakusoku. As my father said, or rather, Kosuke worked part-time to repay his debts, and the editor-in-chief said that the more they sold, the more profit they could make.
Later, he said that because bookstore customers were looking for special places in the neighborhood, he wanted to make a magazine featuring the karakusoku shops in that area.
The road to the karakusoku shop is rough, and sometimes cars can’t even go there, but the karakusoku I found was delicious.
There are shops where you have to put green onions on the karakusoku.
The karakusoku magazine suddenly became a magazine that did not sell, and the bookstore owner initially rejected a magazine he had never even heard of, but he is surprised to learn that the magazine customers are looking for is karakusoku. They say it goes up and down.
The best time is when the fire breaks out.
The fire is going out. He asks for forgiveness and admits that he likes karakusoku.
The karakusoku craze attracted people from many places, but as the crowds grew, the streets became narrower and narrower, and the residents around the karakusoku shops were unable to eat the karakusoku they liked because of traffic congestion and noise. In a panic, he went back to taste Matsui karakusoku again for the regular customers who could no longer eat the karakusoku inherited from his deceased father.

A troubled Kosuke wonders whether he can really finish eating Matsui karakusoku.