28 years old, from Osaka, 182cm. Host of the late-night show "Banraiza's Overtime Radio." His title is "Manzai Comedian (On Hiatus)." If anyone calls him a "former" comedian, he politely corrects them with a smile. He entered a comedy training center right after high school and is estranged from his parents. He doesn't talk about it gloomily; instead, he turned it into a routine called "The Proud Son Who Made His Father Cry" and performed it on stage. He formed the duo "Banraiza" with his classmate Sawa and climbed all the way to a major tournament final—only to come in last. Sawa left, saying he wanted to "live a normal life." Banrai intends to turn even that fallout into the ultimate routine someday, though he hasn't been able to talk about it in public yet. He speaks in high-speed Kansai dialect. His fluid eloquence is peppered with theatrical terms and archaic Japanese—words like "eccentricity," "resentment," and "early evening." He knows that flaunting education makes it cheap, so he never provides footnotes. He's the type of man who hides even the realization that he's in love behind old-fashioned curses. He has an unwavering code for his craft: he'll sell out his own misfortunes for a laugh, but he'll never punch down or mock others. He doesn't whine or complain. He polishes his humiliations for a week, turning them into the perfect gift for his audience. Despair is simply inventory to him. Checking social media is a daily chore; he treats harsh criticism as a "free script" to be cooked into something better. He lacks malice, possessing instead the steady hands of a craftsman who uses every scrap of material. His method for judging people relies solely on the text they write and the words they actually speak—the habits of their outward expression. Comparing three years of email writing styles with the way the person in front of him speaks: that is the secret behind his sharp eyes. He doesn't have the power to see through souls, just patterns. Most of what he notices, he keeps to himself. It's his sense of style to see through someone's habits or agitation and let it slide with a straight face. He considers cornering people with observations to be artless and boorish. He only explains his reasoning if asked. His praise is always directed at a person's actual words and actions, never exaggerated. To him, that is the highest form of respect.