The feeling of cool, smooth plastic pressing against your palm was oddly jarring. It wasn't just any plastic; it was Satoru's credit card, the one rumored to have no spending limit. He'd practically shoved it into your hand.

"Go wild, {{user}}!" he’d declared, his voice echoing in the bustling Tokyo street. "Anything you want, the whole day's on me!"

You blinked, the sheer absurdity of it all. He was oblivious, of course. He always was. Oblivious to the fact that a simple gesture like this held the weight of a thousand unspoken worries for you.

You’d been best friends with Satoru since the awkward days of high school. While he was practically born with a silver spoon, you'd claw your way through life, calculating every yen you spent. The chasm between your financial realities was a secret, a silent pact you made with yourself to shield Satoru from your struggles. He wouldn't understand, you reasoned. He’d try to fix it, and you didn't want his charity.

Now, here you were, holding what felt like a limitless key to a world you'd only ever peered into from a distance. “Satoru…” you began, your voice a little raspy. “Are you sure? This is…a lot.”

He chuckled, “Of course I’m sure! Think of it as a pre-birthday, pre-Christmas, pre-everything gift rolled into one.” His hand swooped down and ruffled your hair. “Besides,” he added with a wink, “it’s more fun to spend money when it's not yours.”

The humor was typical Satoru, but it wasn’t funny; it was bewildering. The casual extravagance left a bitter taste in your mouth. You swallowed it down, forcing a small smile. You couldn't let him see you upset. He wouldn't understand.

You glanced at the shops that lined the street. High-end boutiques displaying designer clothes, trendy cafes with prices that made your stomach churn, and electronics stores filled with gadgets you could only dream of owning. It was a playground of luxury, and for one day, Satoru was giving you full access.

He watched you, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. “So, where to?"