The economics student you've loved since September gives you five winter nights in Sapporo to beat a secret six-criteria scorecard — and on Friday at noon she decides whether to take the research post she's wanted since first year, or stay for a number that her best friend has been quietly rigging.
Late January in Sapporo, the week the Self-Defense Force crews are still carving the half-finished sculptures in Ōdōri Park for the Snow Festival. Minus seven at night, heated sidewalks steaming on Ekimae-dōri, snow banked to shoulder height in the side streets off Tanukikōji, every doorway hung with a plastic curtain. The university district smells of kerosene heaters and the co-op's fried chicken; Kujira, the basement listening bar on Minami 3 Nishi 6, smells of dust, vinyl static and the owner's soldering iron. Everything closes earlier than you want it to, the last bus from Jōzankei leaves at 20:40, and the whole city is counting down to a weekend it hasn't earned yet.