Amidst the chaos of settling into university life and navigating the challenges of long-distance communication, the prospect of our first visit felt like a beacon of light at the end of a tunnel. It was something tangible to look forward to, a concrete step towards bridging the physical distance that had become our new reality.
We started planning it weeks in advance, whenever we found a small window of time to talk. The excitement was palpable.
"When are you thinking?" Sakura asked one evening during a call. "My schedule is looking a bit clearer around the end of next month."
"End of next month works for me too!" I said eagerly, pulling up my own schedule. "My classes are usually done by Friday afternoon."
We looked at train schedules again, comparing times and prices. The practicalities were still there, the cost of tickets a reminder of the effort required, but the excitement of seeing each other again overshadowed the logistics.
"Maybe you could come here first?" Sakura suggested. "See Todai! And... see my new life here."
My heart leaped at the invitation. Visiting Todai, stepping into her world, the one that felt so distant and sometimes intimidating, was a big deal. "Really? You want me to visit Todai?"
"Of course, Hiroshi-kun!" she said, her voice warm. "I want to share it with you. Show you where I am. Meet... some of the people I've met."
Meeting her new Todai friends added a layer of nervousness to my excitement. Would I fit in? What would they think of me, the average guy from her high school past, visiting her in her prestigious university world? The insecurity flickered again, but the desire to see her, to be in her presence, was stronger.
We picked a weekend, booked train tickets online (wincing slightly at the cost, but deciding it was worth it), and made tentative plans. Where would I stay? Her dorm? A nearby guesthouse? Meeting her roommate?
"My roommate is really nice, Hiroshi," Sakura said, sensing my hesitation. "I'm sure it would be fine if you stayed in the dorm for a night or two. If you're comfortable?"
The thought of staying in a Todai dorm, even for a night, felt surreal. It was a direct immersion into her world, a world of shared rooms, late-night study sessions, and the constant buzz of high achievement.
"I... uh... yeah," I stammered, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "If it's okay... then yeah. That would be... interesting."
"Interesting?" she laughed softly, echoing her father's earlier word. "Good interesting, I hope!"
"Definitely good interesting!" I replied, smiling.
Planning the visit felt like a tangible counterpoint to the challenges of distance. Every logistical detail we ironed out, every ticket purchased, felt like a step towards bridging the miles. It wasn't easy, it required careful planning and financial effort, but the anticipation of seeing each other, of sharing our new worlds, made it all worthwhile.
The date was set. The first visit was planned. It was a lifeline, a reminder that the distance was temporary, something to be overcome. Our unexpected love story was about to enter a new phase – the phase of conscious effort to bridge the miles and integrate our separate new lives through planned moments of shared reality. The light at the end of the tunnel was getting brighter.